


The Way of Noxus

by PuncturedButterfly



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuncturedButterfly/pseuds/PuncturedButterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was all a man could want and all a woman would envy. Even the fool Garen had fallen for her — so why wouldn't the Exile look at her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Hey guys, it's PB (no, not that one)! I'm new to AO3 even though I've toyed with the idea of signing up for a while now... I've already posted this fic on FF.net but now I want to "expand" a little, which is how I got here! Please enjoy :-)
> 
> Rated M for violence, blood, swearing and future mature content. League of Legends and its characters are not mine but Riot is doing a good job in making money with them.

Katarina sat under her turret in mid lane, a Doran's Ring glinting on her pinky, and impatiently waited for something to happen. Her enemy had not yet showed up and the hotheaded assassin trained her emerald eyes with some effort on the brushes beside the river bed. Her sight was a little blurry, but she decided it wouldn't make a difference. She was still as deadly as ever.

The annotator's voice boomed all over the place as she announced the spawning of minions and soon enough, the little critters clad in blue robes, equipped with little maces and little staffs, were emerging from the fog of war, walking in single file up to the middle of the lane and immediately starting to mash their heads.  
Katarina looked on bored how the mindless pawns struck away on one another and only bothered to move when a low-health enemy minion dared to come too close to her position. The magic of the Fields of Justice signaled her with a faint display above the dead minion's head and a rattling sound that she had just earned another 21 gold.

This continued for a while and still there was no sign of an enemy Champion. The Du Couteau had easily gained another few hundred gold before she caught movement in the brushes near the river. Her assassin senses kicking in, she crouched low and hid behind her turret, waiting for someone foolish enough to dare and attack her minions.  
"Show yourselves aw'ready…" she growled — a slight slur in her words —, her sharp blades at the ready. And just as expected stumbled a nervous-looking Twitch out of the brushes, his nose peaking up in the air as he took aim. Katarina scrunched up her own nose at the unsightly view. The Plague Rat didn't even saw it coming, so fast was the assassin behind his back with a – considering her current condition — surprisingly well-placed _Shunpo._

"Heh. _Gotcha._ " He froze in mid-motion and turned his face, black eyes wide in sheer terror, as a slash to the neck made short work of him. A pleased smile crept up on Katarina's face as she brushed her hair out of her face and listened to the announcer declaring "First Blood!"

There was an angry yell from somewhere beyond the jungle and the Sinister Blade could pinpoint it as Tryndamere's. She scowled; that man needed to learn to control himself. She sheathed her slender blades on her back and totteringly retreated behind her line of minions, Twitch's body glowing faintly as his spirit was lifted and brought back to the nexus.

_Idiot. Should've known not ta mess with me, 'specially not on_ _ **my**_ _lane. I'll wipe the ground with his shitty face anytime_ , she thought to herself and flung a knife at a minion, earning another handful of gold in the process. While her lane opponent was gone, the Sinister Blade resumed what she knew of the situation at hand…  
Her team consisted of Vayne and Blitzcrank on bot lane, Darius on top and Warwick as the jungler. She herself was of course on mid lane. Tryndamere was on the enemy team and judging from the direction his barbaric yell had come from, he must be on top lane. What a surprise. Twitch was obviously their mid laner — which was as stupid an idea as ever — and then there were Ezreal and Lulu whom Katarina assumed to be bot. The last of the opposing team however, was positively making her blood boil.

Her eyes became hard and she angrily tossed a whirl of knives at the minions in her way, making short work of at least three of them. She still had a few seconds left before the Plague Rat would return, so Katarina decided to make the best of it and continue farming.

She rounded one of her allied minions and drifted to the side to throw another _Bouncing Blade_ at a low-health enemy, when suddenly—

" _Hraaah!_ "

—something heavy cut into her back full force. The Du Couteau screamed out in agony, rolling herself off and coming to a halt in a low crouch, her back hurting like hell. Bilious green lights played around the edges of her eyes; the remnants of the unique kind of magic true to the one and only — Riven, the Exile.

The white-haired warrior sat across from her on the ground, on one knee, her broken blade drilled into the ground between them. Blue and red gems floated around her body, indicating she had just slain Golem and Lizard. Katarina's pulse made a sickening jump and anger welled up inside her as she forced herself out of the dirt. She would not stand low before this _traitor._  
"Sinister Blade." Riven stood up as well, lifting her sword and settling into a fighting pose. Katarina drew her blades and did the same, "Exile."

_You finally come crawlin' back?_

There were many thoughts on Riven running through Katarina's head. Most of them expressed disgust for what she'd done, how cowardly she had been. She harbored deep anger for the woman in front of her, how she betrayed their common home and how she abandoned everything that Noxus had given her in the past.  
They didn't expel her because she wasn't doing a good job or because she was an embarrassment to their nation. Riven had always been indeed more than capable. No, Riven was an exile by choice.

_You decided to leave us… You decided to leave_ _**us**_ ** _!_**

And that arrogance — to believe she had the right to deny her homeland her service — was grinding Katarina's gears. They had given her so much; status, a place to live, a name; hell, even the very sword she was pointing at her nose right now! And Riven had been _shitting_ on all of that.

**_I_ ** _had given you so much…_

So it was only natural for the Sinister Blade to be furious at her. She had never really felt any other emotions than anger, hate and disgust. They were the prominent ones she had experienced in her life and it had always been fine with her that way.  
But there was one emotion that she couldn't face, that she had never been able to face; and Riven was the only one to ever make it come out of her. She clenched her teeth. As much as Katarina wanted to rip her arms off for leaving Noxus, she also wanted nothing more than to be held safe and sound within them.

A blood-curdling war cry escaped her lungs as she dashed forward and attacked the Exile. Steel met steel as they clashed in battle. Katarina, in her haze of blurriness and frustration, lashed out with every blade and knife and dirty trick she had and knew, while Riven parried all but the most harmless ones and counterattacked whenever the possibility presented itself.

The minions in the lane were long forgotten as were the deaths of Darius and Tryndamere, who managed to execute themselves at the same time in top lane. All that mattered was the woman before her — _so close to her_ — that she had to fight today.  
"Ya shouldn't have come here all alone!" the Sinister Blade shouted and drew another knife from within her leather jacket. It was, however, swiftly knocked out of her hand as Riven pushed her elbow to her chest and forced her two steps back. She didn't say anything, her red eyes obviously flashing with confusion.

It took another few strikes and the two combatants were dancing away from mid lane and into the southern jungle. Riven was pushing her, but Katarina didn't even seem to notice. Instead, she was grinning like a maniac as she out-stepped just another _Broken Wings_ assault. Riven frowned.  
"What's wrong, _Exile?_ Have ya lost yur edge yet?" the Du Couteau taunted and slashed away at Riven's unprotected arm, carving a deep wound into her tanned flesh. It left Katarina with a weird satisfaction and she had to physically fight the urge to shake herself.

The Exile didn't even bat an eye at the wound, the League's magic lessening the pain significantly, as Katarina slipped behind her defense and shoved her face close to hers. Her eyes seemed unfocused and her voice sounded very rough. "Ehehe… You're _mine_ now," she… _slurred?_ Riven's eyes widened as the realization struck her with the smell of her breath. "Katarina… Are you drunk?"  
"Pffff, jus' a bit tipsy," she retorted, a slight smile turning into a smirk, "But still more than enough for the likes of you!" A forceful thrust brought the Exile into the air and her hesitation was regarded with a kick in the gut.

She landed flat on her back a few meters away, Katarina immediately catching up and standing over her frame, a blade to her throat. Riven glared at the tip and then up at the Du Couteau, who had a pleased expression on her face.  
"Whataya do now, Exile, when you can't run away from e'rything?" Riven growled lowly under her breath, "At least I'm not the one drowning my problems in alcohol."

The white-haired warrior just clenched her teeth and swallowed the cry as the blade dug forcefully into her throat.

 

* * *

 

Katarina downed the drink in one swig, spitting on the counter at the ghastly taste. The liquor burned in her throat, her eyes felt heavy and she couldn't feel her fingertips anymore. The bartender, Gragas, threw her a disapprovingly look and ran over her spit with a dirty rag, continuing to serve his guests. Katarina didn't even spare him a glance.  
It had become a habit of hers to come here and sit in this particular spot for the majority of the night, trying in vain to — and she angrily clenched her teeth at the thought, because after all the Exile was right — drown her problems in alcohol for at least a few contiguous hours.

She growled and searched for Gragas' eyes in a silent order for another shot, but he seemed to deliberately ignore her. It didn't serve to calm her nerves. Eventually, a long arm slung itself around her shoulders and the Sinister Blade needed a moment to comprehend that she had company. Her glazed-over eyes drifted to and found white ones staring back intently.

"Katarina, my dear! I believe our wonderful Gragas can't see your hostile gaze through that curtain of hair you've put around your face." He brushed a few strands of her red hair out of her eyes and behind her ear, promptly earning himself a drunken swipe at his face.  
"Gedoff me, you ugly mongrel," she snarled, but the arm around her shoulders only pulled her closer to the Crimson Reaper. He laughed through his nose. "Aha, no need to be rude. I was just trying to do you a favor."

Katarina just snarled again and attempted to get him away from her — she just wanted to be alone. To her chagrin, the blonde actually succeeded in making a drink appear before her nose and she begrudgingly accepted it. He smirked, "There you go, darling." Katarina mumbled into the pint, "The fuck daya want, Vlad?"  
"Well, if you insist… It's not exactly news to anyone that you delivered quite a disastrous performance in your match today." Katarina wanted to throw a hundred things into his face at this, most of them not consisting of words but rather knives, but she held back and instead gurgled into her shot. "So, in _genuine_ concern for my friend, I wanted to know if there was anything I could do for you." His eyes appeared to dart to her drink for a second. "Aside from buying your alcohol, that is."

"I dun need anything from you. Jus' fuck off," the fierce red-head huffed and snatched her pint away from him, cradling it as if she would her blades. Vladimir's arm remained where it was, his large smile not faltering a moment. He looked too smug for his own good, Katarina decided, "Lovesick maybe?"

Her eyes went wide in an instant and she discarded her drink, blindingly-fast grabbing him by his needlessly large collar and putting her gloved hand over his mouth, nearly choking him. The Crimson Reaper struggled against her grip and only barely succeeded in peeling her off him without having to _Sanguine Pool_ ing right out of her grasp.  
He chuckled and rearranged his blood-red suit, "Did I hit a soft spot?" Katarina hissed. "Dun say that so loud, jackass! Wha' if someone hears you?!" Vladimir smiled pleased. "So I take it you _are_ lovesick then?"

"Whaaaat? Pffff, ahaha, 'f course not!" She did not sound very convincing to him. "I swear to aw' the Gods above, Vladimir, if ya tell anyone o' this, ya'll get a taste o' cold, sharp steel!" A formerly invisible blade was suddenly produced out of thin air and hovering only an inch away from his nose, leaving the Crimson Reaper with his hands raised.  
"Calm down, Katarina! I'm not going to tell anyone." The knife only very reluctantly retreated. It still left him relieved. "Now, care to tell me why you are sitting here drinking yourself to oblivion when you could also be doing something to get rid of your little problem?"

The Sinister Blade heaved a deep sigh and let her head fall back to the counter with a 'thud'. "Vlad, I'm so helpless, Vlad… I-I dunno what to do…" Her voice was weak, quivering even, as she trailed off and the Crimson Reaper actually felt somewhat sad for her. Originally, he had come here to bathe in her misery and enjoy seeing the usually strong woman stuck in an emotional limbo. After all, she never let a chance to harass him slip.  
But, his joy was mildly contained with the way she was trying to express herself. To _him_ of all people. Vladimir sighed as well and ordered a drink for himself; a pint of Graggy Ice. They sat in silence for a moment and for a second, Vladimir thought Katarina was asleep.

But when he spotted movement and she lifted her face off the table, he just grinned widely at the red imprint left in the middle on her forehead. She threw him a look, "Whataya lookin' at, ey?" He waved his clawed hand, "Nothing, darling, nothing…"  
"Gah…" He took his time finishing his drink.

"I guess we should think of a plan," the blonde finally said. His white eyes were slightly glowing in a red light, oddly reminding Katarina of Riven's and she found herself leaning forward to him until she snapped out of it and blinked. "What do you mean?"  
"Well, I do not need to be a second Karma to sense your distress." His arm wrapped itself around her shoulders once again, "You, my dear, need to get laid." Katarina was not at all impressed by his sensational inference — and she made it obvious. "You dun say."

His evil cackle combined with the charming pull-up of his eyebrow made her uneasy suddenly and she shrunk back. "Vlaaaad? Why're you lookin' at me like that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] So much for the first chapter. I have no idea if drunken people actually talk like this, but I tried my best, lol. If there are any corrections to make, please give me a virtual nudge into the right direction and I'll fix it as soon as I'm able to overcome my common laziness.
> 
> Otherwise, please let me know what you think and gimme a small review! :-)


	2. Chapter 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Chapter 02 of Kat's ordeal! This is rather long and there'll be a ton of shilly-shallying with no actual plot, but who doesn't like a slow build? ;-)

If the flowers in her hands weren't enough out of place, it certainly was the red, low-cut dress he had put her in. Her eye twitched dangerously and the Sinister Blade did her very best not to rip him to shreds right then and there. The Crimson Reaper swooned all over the outfit and how good it was on her and that she looked totally lovely in it; it would have driven _anyone_ mad.  
And that wasn't even the top of the cake. No, the cherry was the face her _sister_ was making — or rather the howling laughter she had tried to contain for the past twenty minutes. The Serpent's Embrace had made herself comfortable on the wide couch across the room, cushions piled up under her, and observed Katarina intently. Her cheeks were flushed with glee, eyes full of tears of mirth, and she constantly had to hold at least one of her clawed hands over her face to cover her mouth and keeping from cackling like a madwoman.

Vladimir the wicked bastard had dared to tell her sister of this.

_I swear, I will kill this idiotic moron as soon as I get out of this offense to a Noxian General!_

Cassiopeia contently rolled onto her side, supporting her head with her hand and tried to calm down, lest she died from laughter. "Wow, Kat, you never cease to amaze me. This is definitely a new highlight, even for you." Katarina just glared at her, already tugging on the dress in a somewhat nervous manner. She felt uncomfortable, and it certainly showed.  
"Keep your split tongue behind that sharp teeth of yours, bitch." Cassiopeia simply darted her tongue out and hissed lowly at her sister. "You're most amusing thing I have seen in a while." She turned her head to the side and added a mumbled "And I constantly have to put up with the weirdest shit…"

Vladimir came sauntering back with a — and now _both_ Du Couteaus nearly lost control of their facial features — large, fluffy feather boa in dark purple. "Katarina, darling! I just saw Fortune wearing this in one of her recent matches and I thought it looked _wonderful!_ I'm sure it would fit you as well!" He was about to throw it around her neck when she finally snapped.  
"TAKE THIS THING OUT OF MY FACE _AT ONCE,_ VLADIMIR!" The hilt of a blade hit him right in his eye and the Crimson Reaper recoiled sharply, mewling as he held his war wound. "Holy bloodshed, what do you think you're doing!?"

"You are an insult to all of Noxus! Go keep your twisted fantasies to yourself, faggot!" The bruised blonde looked up at her through one watery eye, feeling hurt. "I was helping you! Women like this kind of stuff! I must know, I've had—" She interrupted him, "—like not a _single_ woman in your entire, worthless life! Now get off me, you gay fairy!"  
"Yea, right! Because _you_ are just soooo straight as an arrow!" Another knife flung itself at his head, narrowly avoiding him as he _Sanguine Pool_ ed right out of harms way. Approximately two seconds later he reappeared a few meters away from the fuming assassin, a shocked expression on his face. "Did you just try to kill me? As in, _actually_ tried to kill me?!"

Cassiopeia giggled and watched the little scene unfolding before her eyes; the two hot-headed Noxians throwing insult after insult at each other. They were like an old married couple sometimes and that promptly sparked a thought. "I wonder if you and Riven would be like this too." That had them turning their attention to the Serpent's Embrace.  
The younger of the Du Couteau sisters slithered off the couch and casually waved her hand at them. "You now. Like this." Her rather annoyed expression suddenly turned into a full grin. "Oh, but of course, for me to find that out, you'd have to hook up with her first. Ahahaha."

Her bellowing laughter erupted from the room as she slithered away, Katarina was only barely held back in her plain fury by Vladimir. "I'm gonna kill the both of you! Unsupportive back-stabbers!" the Sinister Blade yelled and managed to pull herself out of Vladimir's grip.  
She ripped the dress from her body and hastily retrieved her leather uniform. She instantly felt way better. _Damn this nonsense… As if this will help me getting closer to Riven. Mmh, closer to Riven…_ An image of the young Riven, hot eyes and tanned skin, appeared before her mental eye and Katarina shooed it away with rigorous head-shaking.

She was getting paranoid. She couldn't keep drifting to day dreams about some woman who she didn't know anymore when she should be concentrating on the here and now. After all, _she_ was the Sinister Blade of Noxus and she had a job to do.  
So when she had all of her belts and straps arranged, the Du Couteau straightened and threw a glance at the Crimson Reaper who still stood a fair distance away from her, glaring.

"Vladimir, I'm going. Training has been overdue." Her expression was bored at best, "And you should really go talk to Taric about that little problem of yours." With that, the Sinister Blade of Noxus left and threw the door in her displeasure.

Vladimir didn't move until he couldn't hear her swift footsteps anymore. " _I'm not gay…_ " he mumbled to himself as he picked the feather boa up and petted it as if to soothe his own wounded pride.

 

* * *

 

A few moments later, the Sinister Blade was inside the training room. It — just like the Fields of Justice and the Institute of War themselves — was neutral ground where every Champion enjoyed complete diplomatic immunity. Sparrings were allowed, but no actual bloodshed. Everyone who disregarded the rules would be punished accordingly.  
The training room was a large hall with various pieces of equipment suited for most of the Champions' basic needs. Since most of the others would often seek privacy while training in the vast forest outside the Institute of War, it came as no surprise that the Du Couteau was alone. Katarina walked up straight to the dummies on one side of the hall; they had multiple targets of varying sizes on their bodies to mark vital points.

She fumbled with a knife in her hand, lazily swirling it around her index finger. Her swagger stopped and she rolled her shoulders. She began with her usual warm-up — throwing daggers at the largest marks on the dummies' bodies. In a wide swiping motion, she fanned out and blades hit the targets. She hit every one of them right in the bull's-eye, naturally, and repeated this several times.  
Annoyed at the monotony already, Katarina stepped it up a notch. There was a pretty little mechanism in the rail under the dummies that made them drive up and down the side of the room. If she remembered correctly, the Yordles of Piltover Customs had built this. She snorted; at least she could give those little pests credit for their inventions.

Movable targets were harder to strike of course and the engine could make the dummies go quite fast. It was nothing compared to the speed some of the other Champions were moving with, but it did the trick and Katarina could stay in shape even when she wasn't picked for matches.

She continued her training session for about an hour until someone new interrupted her solitude. The Sinister Blade stopped in her attempt at murdering yet another imaginary Vladimir and turned her attention to the door.  
There in the frame stood a petite feminine figure, four tips of sharp blades standing out and Katarina instantly knew who this was — Irelia, the Will of the Blades. _Karma's lapdog_ , she thought disapprovingly.

The woman looked at her unblinking for a moment before inviting herself in. Her blades hovered around her body and Katarina was tense. She hated Ionians with a fervor.

These were the people who took the Exile away.

The red-head clenched her fists around the hilts of her knives, not wavering in her threatening stare. Irelia however, didn't seem fazed at all. She sauntered over to the Du Couteau and crossed her arms. "Katarina. I haven't seen you here for quite some time. Do you feel the need to hone your skills?" It was a blatant hint to her match yesterday.  
"None of your business, midget." She overheard Katarina's insult completely and simply smirked. "Well, that's too sad. I would have loved to see your improvements firsthand." Katarina quirked an eyebrow. _Is she challenging me?_ Her lips twitched up in a sly smile, "I never said I wouldn't enjoy a little spar once in a while."

That made Irelia return the hostile grin. "Delighting. I have long wanted a test of prowess against you." She let her arms fall to her sides, her body visibly tensing up. Training sessions were always the same, dull routine. It has been quite a while since she last had a sparring partner and Katarina would not let this opportunity slip — especially if it meant beating the living shit out of pesky little isle apes. She grinned devilishly at Irelia, "Come at me, Ionian."

She had closed the distance in an instant, her four blades striking at Katarina, and the Du Couteau had to make a dash out of harm's way to not get caught. The League's magic immediately sensed the two engaging in combat and weaved the protective blue veil around their bodies. Katarina twirled her blades in her hands, dropping into a fighting stance. This would certainly help to take her mind off things — or people.

Irelia struck first. She flew toward Katarina in a _Bladesurge,_ bringing her weapon down with a battle cry. Katarina rolled to the side to avoid being hit and instantly turned, slashing at Irelia's calf. However, the Ionian saw this coming and took a step forward, whirling around to strike once more. Katarina heaved herself up the ground and their blades rattled.  
The Will of the Blades moved quickly, erratically, to out-step the red-head's ferocious lunges. She was quite light-footed and it proved actually hard to land a good blow or two. Katarina had never crossed blades with Irelia before — she was naturally covering mid lane while the Ionian was on top lane — and she was irritated at how graceful she moved.

She twisted and turned, jumped and spun, and the two assassins were exchanging hits and strikes wherever the opportunity presented itself. They flew across the room and back again, dodging blades behind the dummies and counter-attacking effectively.  
Their dangerous dance continued for a while, leaving them both breathing heavily, muscles weary from their clash. Irelia huffed a chuckle, "Heh. You're good." — her eyes sparkled — "Just like Riven said." That made Katarina halt in her mental attempt to rip the Ionian apart right then and there. _What the hell does she mean by that?_

Fear gripped her and the Du Couteau wondered if Vladimir or possibly her sister could have told anyone of her infatuation with the Exile… _No. They wouldn't have…!_ Irelia noticed her uneasiness immediately, but fortunately mistook it for irritation. "Yes, she told me about you. Said you were one of the most dangerous soldiers of Noxus' _glorious_ military." Katarina let her words sink in, while the women continued to circle each other warily.  
Quickly enough, she regained control over her features and her face turned to stone. "She said you were as deadly as you were passionate and that she knew of not a single target you haven't successfully eliminated." Somehow, that made Katarina proud. Did Riven really say she was _passionate?_ And if so, what exactly did it mean?

The Sinister Blade couldn't help but smirk, imagining Riven. However, she covered it up as a blood-thirsty one. She was up and ready to get at her throat again when suddenly Irelia got completely distracted. She halted in her attempt to slice the other woman to shreds.  
The Ionia's eyes were glued to the entrance, which Katarina couldn't see since she had her back toward it. She did not move to risk a look however, in case it was a trap. It was probably just some peasant anyway.

"Someone's watching us," Irelia commented and relaxed. The Du Couteau snorted and put her blades away as well, annoyed at their distraction. She turned and threw her best evil glare at the door, but her fury evaporated in an instant. Beside the door frame stood Riven.  
She didn't know whether to yell at her for intruding and effectively putting a stop to their fight or be delighted at seeing her here. Irelia didn't even spare the red-head a glance when she spoke, "Ah. I'm sorry, Katarina, but we have to continue this another time." With that, she ignored her and walked past the fuming assassin. Katarina saw how she had her eyes set on the Exile.

Riven herself didn't say a word. She just leant there on the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, one foot against it. Her eyes were boring into Irelia's — and hell did Katarina know why. The Will of the Blades continued her strut out of the room, adding a somewhat sultry-sounding "Wouldn't want to give my moves away." Riven slowly turned her head to follow her movements, eyes never leaving the dark-haired beauty, and Katarina was not quite sure if she saw the beginning of a smile on her lips. But she didn't look close enough, or maybe it was the burning anger at the scene unfolding that made her vision blurry.  
However, Katarina resumed the action of twirling a knife around her finger, trying to focus on something else but the two women in their annoying little game.

When Irelia was finally gone, the Exile turned her glowing gaze to the red-head. It took her a great deal of self-restraint not to lose her cool at those eyes. "Are you free?" the Exile asked and immediately, Katarina's mind answered with a naughty _"Free to do anything you want me to."_  
She did not reply outside of the realm of her brain however and with the way Riven just _smirked_ a bemused little smirk at her, she assumed she must have had quite a stressed expression on her face. The warrior pushed herself off the wall and walked toward her, not waiting for anything else.

This _insolence_ to think that she was actually okay with having a new sparring partner was getting under Katarina's skin. She barked at the Exile, "So you're looking for another beating? One might think you've had enough after that match yesterday."  
It was true; though Katarina had been awfully intoxicated, she _had_ been making short work of the Exile four times — in complete and utter rage, that was. Nevertheless, it didn't make up for the amount of her deaths _at all._

Riven shook her head in slight amusement, "Yes, you got me a few times, I'll give you that. But in the end, you lost." Her face became stern, "'And it is regardless of how you achieve your goal. The outcome is what is important.' Your words exactly." Reciting this sentence — this attitude to life that the Du Couteau was living and breathing by — was making her squirm in rage.  
Whatever these damned Ionians had done to her, Katarina was sick of having to endure it. She just wanted to rip this woman before her apart and fling the parts away. Maybe that would help Riven reconstructing her mind.

"Stop trash-talking and brace yourself, Exile! I'm not going easy on you!" the Sinister Blade exclaimed and raised her knife at Riven. "Better make up for interrupting my fight!" She didn't give her newest opponent the time to get ready and draw her blade before _Shunpo_ ing behind her and slashing away at her unprotected back.  
Riven must have seen it coming a mile ago, because the white-haired warrior just rolled out of the way and came to a halt in a crouched position. Her eyes blazed as she took hold of her weapon's hilt, unsheathing the remnants of what once was a symbol to all of Noxus.

Katarina laughed at the broken piece — still being even longer than one of her own swords — and gave chase. Their blades clashed in an explosion of tiny sparks, a loud clattering sound being thrown into the room. Katarina immediately felt the exhilaration of battle pulsing through her veins again. She felt light-headed and let her anger out in each strike.  
Riven had been a lot more defensive in their match upon the Fields yesterday, but the Du Couteau was too far down the spiral to notice. Maybe it was because she herself was a lot less wasted this time… She dodged and evaded, countered and blocked.

It was a pretty even match to say the least, both Noxians proving skillful enough to not underlay. Katarina felt excitement mixing up with her anger and the little moment with Irelia popped up in her head again. She smirked and locked eyes with Riven, "So, you and that Ionian? Why am I not surprised?" Riven blinked before using her strength to push Katarina away a good distance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on! I just saw the two of you being all lovey-dovey. Just there, a second ago! Don't tell me it was just my overactive imagination," she taunted and grinned at Riven. The warrior however, was just striking a rather confused face. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I guess it _was_ your overactive imagination. Irelia and I are Champions of the League, nothing more."  
Katarina grit her teeth in anger, her eyebrows pulled low above her emerald eyes. She scoffed, "Whatever you think, Exile." She spoke surprisingly quietly and Riven wasn't sure if she had heard her correctly before she had to parry the next knife to her head.

Katarina growled in her fury, closing the distance between herself and the white-haired warrior, attempting to gash her sword right through her stomach. There was such a wild force behind the attack that Riven was able to block it, but it also effectively threw her off-balance. Katarina _Shunpo_ ed away the next second, only to reappear a few meters before her.  
Riven barely had time to gain a solid foothold again when Katarina jumped in the air and flew toward her, blade raised above her head. She wanted to skewer her. And sensing the blood-thirst in her move, Riven was positive the League's magic would punish her severely for it… A ferocious battle cry on her lips, the Du Couteau had her weapon already drilled through Riven's ribcage in her mind.

But despite clearly being in the advantage, what happened next was turning the tables completely. The Exile took half a step backward and _braced herself._ She discarded her massive sword and it skidded across the floor with a loud 'clank'. Katarina's body was aware of the movement before her mind could catch up and it moved on its own — letting the hand with the blade shift to the side.

" _Whaa—_ " She collided with the Exile, now-empty palms crashing onto strong shoulders and her legs stretched out awkwardly to cushion the jump that had just so ungracefully turned into a fall. Her cry died and changed into a surprised yelp as she bumped into Riven's front, her legs reflexively settling on either side of her middle. She screwed her eyes shut for just a moment.  
Arms wrapped themselves around her thighs and Riven stumbled another step backward, but managed to keep standing. They came to a halt and Katarina opened her eyes, meeting a blazing red.

Her breath caught. Riven stared right back at her, their faces only inches away from one another. All thought was eradicated from her mind and she got aware of the position they were in — she was practically sitting on Riven's stomach, while the Exile had her hands on her thighs and Katarina's bosom was painfully obvious pressing into Riven's larger one.  
She felt her face heating up, spreading from her nose to her ears and even down her neck. _Holy shit! How the hell did this happen?!_ Riven's face was turned to stone. _Why is she looking at me like that? Why the heck is she looking at me like that?! What does she…_

Her voice was weak and it surprised them both. " _Riven…_ " Katarina breathed, and stopped herself, suddenly torn. She was angry, furious even, and had attempted to impale the white-haired warrior just a second ago, but now… She wanted to do something else suddenly. Her eyes, wide in shock and confusion, flickered to Riven's lips—

—but Riven inhaled deeply through her nose and blinked, dropping Katarina in an instant. She turned around, rolling her shoulders and keeping her head down. "Guess we can call it a tie." There was a pause before she continued, "I gotta go."

And just like this, Riven picked up her blade and walked away from her. Katarina sat there on the ground in a daze. She blinked a few times, her eyes firmly trained on the Exile, and she wanted to shout at her and tell her to stay. But no words left her sealed lips when the door behind Riven fell closed.

Katarina didn't get up for a few moments, her mind in a disturbing state. _Why the fuck… did she catch me? Why the fuck did she have to catch me?! Gah, Riven, you oblivious moron!_ Her mental rage manifested itself in a string of muffled obscenities that she pressed through her gritted teeth, while she picked herself up from the floor. Her butt hurt.  
Angrily brushing her hair out of her face, the Du Couteau recollected her arsenal of weapons and decided she better waited until her face cooled down before she left the training room.

 

* * *

 

Katarina was even grumpier than usually and it certainly showed in the way she pushed her way through the crowds of people in the hallways of the Institute, or the deep scowl she wore on her rather delicate face. Even the scar over her left eye seemed to glow with hot fury.  
She didn't stop for anyone who called after her, didn't acknowledge anyone who greeted her, and even walked past an irritated Jericho Swain who had meant to ask her a question of importance. The man narrowed his eyes at her and stroked Beatrice's neck with two fingers as he turned and whispered something into the annoying bird's ear.

Her behavior had been strange to say the best. She had locked herself into her room for the majority of the evening and not a sound could have been heard from in there. So, naturally, Vladimir became quite worried.  
He was still a bit mad at her for dismissing his fashion tips for nothing, but he had promised himself he would try and help her with her little issue. So later that day, the Crimson Reaper stood before the red-head's door and knocked. "Katarina, I know you're in there. The Summoners have seen you enter and you haven't come out since then, so don't pretend you're not there."

He was regarded with utter silence and his patience was already running thin. He really wanted to avoid having to _Sanguine Pool_ ing through under the door — once more satisfiedly acknowledging how very useful said skill was — since that would mean invading her personal space without her compliance and he hated doing such things.  
After another round of persistent knocking, there was finally some shuffling from inside the room. He waited politely and straightened when the door was suddenly yanked opened and he was met with the face of a rather furious Katarina Du Couteau. She didn't give him time to adjust; no, she just _screamed —_ " _AAAHH!_ " — and threw the door closed again right before his nose.

Vladimir flinched, his eyes blinking uncontrollably, and took a moment to realize what had just happened. The air from Katarina's prompt movement blew a familiar stench into his face and the Crimson Reaper grimaced. "Katarina Du Couteau, have you been drinking again?! The inside of your room just _stinks_ like Rengarbräu!" He bumped his fist against the thick wood, "I thought Gragas told you to sleep it off before you asked him for anything again!"

" _Go away, I hate you!_ " was the endearing response to that. There was more shuffling and Vladimir assumed Katarina had been in bed, hidden under her blanket with a bottle of the whiskey. He clenched his jaws, wanting to smash in the door and slap her in the face. It was a complete disgrace to see the famous Sinister Blade reduced to this picture of misery.  
But however long he stood there before her room trying to get her out, she wouldn't move. He gave up after at least half an hour looking like an idiot and instead shook his head with a sigh, "Fine, stay in there. I don't know what happened during your training, but don't overdo it with the drinking, Katarina! Better go to sleep, before you do something stupid…"

He left, and Katarina slowly placed the almost empty bottle of booze down on the nightstand beside her bed. She wiped her salty eyes, holding in another sob, and killed the last light in her room…


	3. Chapter 03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] So, some more fighting. Whoo! I haven't written 'real' fighting scenes in quite some time and I really hope they are believable… But onward without further ado!

The next morning was a torture for the Du Couteau. Her hangover manifested itself in a terribly throbbing headache and sore muscles. She felt as if she got dunked by Darius — twelve times in a row. Katarina grunted loudly and turned around in her bed, burying her face in her pillow.  
Sunlight was streaming in through her window and she wondered if she could will the curtains closed through sheer willpower. She was more than annoyed to find out that they instead opened further and not a second later, her room was flooded with accursed light.

_Wait a sec…_

A low chuckle erupted from the remnant shadows and the Du Couteau suddenly snapped out of her drowsiness. She jumped up in her bed and stood on the mattress, a long knife in her grip and a predatory look in her bloodshot eyes, " _Who goes there!?_ "

"Ahahahaha! You look pathetic, dear _sister!_ " hissed the voice of none other than Cassiopeia through the chamber and the Serpent's Embrace slithered into sight, resting her upper torso on the end of the bed. Her tongue darted out of her mouth, a bemused expression gleamed in her narrowed eyes, "Did my beloved sister not catch enough sleep last night or what is the matter with her today, hmm?" Her eyes went up and down Katarina's appearance. "Truly frightening," she mocked — taking in the rather hilarious sight of her sister in her silken nightgown standing on her disheveled bed with weapon in hand and dark red circles under her eyes.  
_Of_ _ **course**_ _it's her…_ "Holy shit, Cass! What the fuck do you want this early in the morning?!" Katarina insisted and let her weapon disappear from where it had come from. She flopped down again and threw her arms over her eyes to block out the sunlight. Cassiopeia pulled an elegant eyebrow up, "You did not take a look at your watch, did you?"

At this, she of course turned around and checked her watch — only to find that it was almost three in the middle of the day. She groaned again, "Oh shit…" Her sister twirled her tail around and admired the sharp nails on her left hand before glancing at the watch again, "You should probably get up, your next match is in approximately… thirty-two minutes."  
"WHAT!?" That sent the covers flying across the room and the fierce red-head stumbled toward her bathroom and set the water running. "Why didn't you come here sooner?!" Cassiopeia only snorted at this and got up as well, crossing her arms and glaring at the door, "Am I your peon now or what? You're old enough to keep track of time yourself."

Another grunt from under the shower, "Why can't you be there when I really need you?!" The Serpent's Embrace hissed. "Ungrateful bitch. You should be happy, at least _someone_ cares about you," she shot back viciously and there came no reply to that. Cassiopeia wondered if Katarina just didn't hear it over the running shower or if she chose to ignore it.  
But in the end, it didn't matter. When Katarina came rushing back into her bedroom, her sister was gone. _That stupid tramp… As if I didn't know that._ She got dressed in record time and hastily grabbed her weapons, then left for the summoning chambers.

 

* * *

 

The rest of her team was already assembled and half of the Champions threw her displeased looks. As so often in recent times, the Noxian General shrugged all of them off without a second glance and slumped down in the massive stone seat at one side of the chamber. She closed her eyes and welcomed the bristling magic that claimed her body while her consciousness slowly drifted away.

The next instant, she felt a strong pull and her body was dragged to the Fields of Justice. Her emerald eyes flew opened and she took in the sight of the large blue nexus in front of her; its crystal floating ominously in mid-air. Beside her, the other Champions appeared and the Sinister Blade actually took a moment to examine the lineup.  
To her right stood Leona in her impressive shining armor. The woman was easily towering over the majority of the other Champions in the League. Beside her was Ashe fixing a few lost strands of hair. Her legendary bow manifested out of thin air and the Avarosan took a firm hold of it. The red-headed assassin turned her annoyed gaze to the left and was met with the view of a quite content looking Nine-Tailed Fox.

Her eyebrow shot up and the Du Couteau turned her body toward Ahri. "Hold on, what's she doing here?" Ahri's ears perked up and the grin on the fox woman's face grew wider, her eyes sparkled. She didn't even retort to Katarina's exclamation and instead just went to the shopkeeper and purchased a Doran's Ring and two Health Potions as well as one of those makeshift wards. Katarina's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. She was just about to unleash a string of insults on the fox lady when she spotted the last of her team mates just returning from buying her starting items.

_Riven._

The red-head stopped dead in her tracks, eyes locking with the Exile's, and her words got stuck in her throat. She almost made a face at the coincidence, _Am I being punished by an act of nature or what the fuck is wrong lately…?_ Riven was holding her gaze before she turned and set off into the southern jungle — probably to get to the Lizard Elder.  
Ashe was talking to her, but Katarina zoned her voice out and shrugged her companions off once more. "Never mind. I'll be top." She hastily bought herself some items and went without another glance backward, her hair hiding her expression from view. Ahri giggled endearingly from behind her and sprinted toward mid lane, while Leona took Ashe with her to go and assist Riven.

Katarina's pulse quickened. What on Runeterra was with this setup? Why had the Summoners considered taking two mid laners? _That's bullshit,_ she growled and sent a brainwave to her Summoner — letting him know that communication _beforehand_ was mandatory in winning a match. The poor boy cringed under the fuming assassin's temper but didn't respond. At least he had provided her with some Runes that gave her a little sustain; she would need that.  
The tiny gem stones were fastened on the belt around on her hips, glistening in different colors of red, blue and green. To further support her, he had chosen the Summoner Spells _Ignite_ and _Flash_ for her — a common and very useful combination that worked well in sync with her natural abilities. It would help her escape or chase after enemies and secure kills for her team.

Katarina jogged up to the turret in top lane and sat down under it, waiting for her minions to arrive. Her tummy growled and she cursed; had Cassiopeia shown up sooner, she would have had time for breakfast… She discarded the thought and heaved a sigh, _What have I gotten myself into again? Why is Riven even here…?_ Her gaze wandered to the thick wall of trees surrounding the monster camps that the Exile would farm up once she got her Red Buff.  
Katarina bit her lip. The warrior would no doubt come and aid her up here once she was able to. Top lane was always a hot paving and she definitely was not suited for this lane. She gritted her teeth and got up, dusting off the back of her pants, and caught up with her tiny blue pawns. Before storming into the fray however, the Sinister Blade threw down one of those odd plant-like Warding Totems — Zyra surely loved them — in the nearest brush. _Wouldn't want to get blown up first._

Her _Bouncing Blade_ rapidly hopped from minion to minion and the faint silhouette of one of her daggers appeared above those hit. She quickly ran up to them and struck their exposed weak points, dealing a little more damage than usually. Her eyes warily observed the road ahead. Her lane opposition had not yet shown up.  
The assassin growled — annoyed that she had yet again to wait for her enemy to show themselves. She took hold of two of her blades and swiftly whirled around, striking three minions at once and killing two of them off, before dealing with the last one with another quick jab to the head.

A booming loud "First Blood!" echoed over the battlefield and her Summoner informed her that their bot lane had just scored a kill. Katarina snorted; it was not even four minutes into the match and already someone was shedding their blood. She felt easier, knowing with a bitter afterthought that the damned first victim was not going to be her.

She sighed; her thoughts drifted back and forth from her encounter with the Exile yesterday and she wondered how it would affect the match today — _if_ at all. She had spent a good portion of the night laying wide awake in her bed in her wasted state and trying to figure out just why _the fuck_ she felt so attracted to the white-haired warrior in the first place.  
She faintly remembered how it had been in their past days in the Crimson Elite. Beside herself and Talon, Riven had proven to be the only one in the squad to be on a par with the two assassins. Well, Sivir was equally skilled of course, but she was no true Noxian, so she probably didn't count anyway.

Katarina was so absorbed in her mental debate and the killing off of minions that she did not notice someone sneaking up on her.

With blinding speed, something hit her in the shoulder and made her ears ring. She resisted the urge to clutch down on her right ear and spun around, facing in the direction of the brush in the river bed. Not a second later, a war cry erupted from within and a well-built man with a red blind over his eyes dashed toward her.

"Strike firmly!" he shouted and kicked her right in the gut. The Du Couteau got knocked back and spit the ground before her. _Lee Sin! That bastard…!_ She grunted in pain and threw another _Bouncing Blade_ at the Blind Monk which hit him in the knee, marking him.  
He didn't even flinch, the red rune stones floating around his body adding to his _Sonic Wave_ 's damage and sending a burning pain through Katarina. She _Shunpo_ ed away from him and hid behind a nearby allied minion, readying herself for a counter attack. The monk's face was expressionless as he charged again.

Suddenly, there appeared a Stealth Ward right beside her out of nowhere and Lee Sin flew toward it, his _Safeguard_ shielding him from incoming strikes of the blue minions. He engaged in combat with the Sinister Blade and all the minions around them quickly changed targets — attempting to protect their Champion from more harass.  
Katarina tried to dodge the Blind Monk's attacks as best as she could, but the man was a skillful fighter and his technique was nearly unbeatable in close combat. Where she expected her blades would go through soft flesh, they only struck air.

She growled, "You have chosen the wrong opponent today, Lee Sin!", and charged with another _Shunpo_ followed up by a quick _Sinister Steel._ The Ionian actually stumbled from the onslaught and backed away before throwing his fist to the ground and complement his attack with a _Cripple._ Katarina lost her balance for a second and felt herself growing exhausted significantly.  
_No way… Not with me, Blind Monk!_ But she would not be a Noxian General for nothing — Katarina pressed her jaws together and bit through the pain, straightening and releasing her full power on the poor man.

She hit him with _Bouncing Blades,_ adding a _Shunpo_ and another _Sinister Steel,_ before she got into position for her ultimate. A vicious grin was plastered on her face and Katarina's hand disappeared within the many hidden pockets of her attire—

—and in the next instant, she became death itself. " _Eat this!_ " she yelled and spun around on the spot, throwing knives in such quick succession at Lee Sin that the Ionian was too stunned to do anything about it. Blood splattered all across their battlefield and the maniac laughter of the Sinister Blade echoed through top lane.

It all was so fast that the whole ordeal was over within about three seconds. There was a commotion and the shuffling of a third body, but Katarina kept on flinging her blades in a _Death Lotus_ at Lee Sin. She came to a halt, her hair a complete mess by now, but the sight of the man's corpse on the ground was enough to satisfy her to a large degree, "Too easy."  
However, when she stepped back, she caught movement in the corner of her eye. Killer instincts sending a surge through her, the Sinister Blade took stance and was met with none other than the Will of the Blades.

There was a stunned silence for a moment between the two and Katarina could see blood dripping from a wound on Irelia's arm — a knife of hers was stuck in it. Lee Sin's dead body vanished and the gems that were formerly adorning him were now circling around her.  
Katarina grinned, pure _Voracity_ shining in her emerald eyes, and she licked her drawn blade, "We meet again." Irelia stood firm, her cut-open arm drawn back behind her to shield it from more damage. Her face was tense but she didn't give any of her agony away.

She pulled her eyebrows deep and let go of her arm, taking her famous _Hiten Style_ fighting stance. She dashed forward through the minions, pushing them aside with a sudden vigor, and lunged herself at Katarina with a battle cry, " _Hahh!_ "  
Sharp steel drilled itself in the Sinister Blade's flank and she recoiled, parrying the other third blades only barely. She ducked under another stab and pushed Irelia's outstretched arm away, forcing her body forward and they crashed into each other. The red-headed assassin's blade was narrowly avoided by a maddening twist and for a second Katarina wondered if Irelia even had a fucking spine to begin with. _Elise in disguise?!_

The Will of the Blades immediately took advantage of her opponent's short moment of hesitation and got behind her, two blades at the ready — and with a quick flick of the wrist, the blades slashed clean through Katarina's torso, bursting out at the front with a lot of Noxian blood. Irelia's expression turned into a grin, "Cut them down."  
The image before her blurred, and she blinked, and suddenly there was nothing more than a blue caster minion skewered on her blades. "What!?" She straightened and a spiteful laughter from behind her let her know that she just got baited and outsmarted. Not fast enough to spin around, a hard kick in the back sent the Ionian to the ground flat on her stomach.

Katarina was standing two feet away, with a knife in hand, and had yet to cease her annoying cackling. "What's up, Irelia? I knew you Ionians loved nature, but I didn't know you liked playing in the dirt _that_ much!" The red-head attempted to end it, but her taunting only got under Irelia's skin. The woman rolled out of harm's way — now on her back — and kicked Katarina right in the face with both feet clad in steel-soled combat boots.  
That made the Du Couteau effectively shut up. She fell on her butt and sat there weeping for a moment, blood running through her fingers as she held her nose. Irelia wasn't really sure, but there appeared to be tears in her eyes. _Now that was satisfying._

"You-You _BITCH!_ You fucking, Ionian _BITCH!_ " the Sinister Blade lamented and rocked back and forth with her ass on the ground, toes curling inside her boots. _Fuck, that_ _ **hurts!**_ Her glare was almost as frightening as the feeling that grabbed you when you felt Karthus _Requiem_ ing you and you were not entirely sure if you would survive it or not.  
Irelia actually felt a chill run down her spine. She scrambled to her feet and held her pained back, her blades repositioning beside her. As much as she would have liked to end it and avenge Lee Sin's death, she did not feel very well right now and that prevented her from striking. Besides, she loved the sight of a crying Katarina sitting in the dirt.

The red-head got up as well, hands shaking as she grabbed two of her most terrifying-looking blades. The smear of red on her face was covering her entire jaw and she breathed heavily. Her eyes were glinting in pure and utter rage.  
"You are so dead, Irelia… You are _so dead!_ " she screamed and charged, unleashing a ferocious _Sinister Steel_ upon her that had her cut-open in the face, on the arms and upper torso.

" _Aah!_ " In a last attempt to keep herself from dying, Irelia commanded her Summoner to _Exhaust_ the raving assassin. The Summoner acted immediately and the Sinister Blade was slowed down significantly, but it didn't stop her from thrashing Irelia.

So she gritted her teeth, raised her blades, and brought them down in an _Equilibrium Strike_ that left Katarina in a daze. She stumbled backward and her blades fell to the ground — she was too weak. Her view was sprinkled with red dots and her arms shook. Katarina fell to her knees.  
Irelia gathered her will and commanded her blades to stay close at her body as she carefully stepped toward the crouching assassin. Their eyes locked and there was obvious dislike evident. Irelia would not hesitate, "It ends here."

_Fucking Ionian…_

The Will of the Blades towered above her and Katarina was paralyzed — there was nothing she could do. So she closed her eyes when Irelia pointed her blades' sharp tips at her pathetic form and awaited imminent death. Her last thoughts regarded the smile Riven wore on her face when she and Irelia had been in the training room yesterday.

_**Fucking Ionian…** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Poor Kat. Now she really gets her ass handed to her…
> 
> If you want to give your "get well" wishes for Kat's bum, then just leave a review for her :-P (God, I love my own lame-ass jokes)


	4. Chapter 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Oh, what's this?! A wild Sudden Plot Twist appears! lol.
> 
> I decided that turning the tables a little would do some good maybe. But that doesn't mean I'll let Kat off the hook, hehehe. So here you get the conclusion of the fight. Enjoy and don't forget to review, flame or verbally mangle me in any way you deem appropriate!

But the strike never hit home. Katarina snapped her eyes opened when she heard the biting sound of metal against metal and she raised her head — seeing a tall figure forced in-between herself and the Will of the Blades.

 _Green_ was the prominent color she saw and the aura in front of her glowed in the shape of ancient Noxian runes. Katarina's jaw positively dropped — standing protectively above her was Riven.

The Exile had used her _Valor_ to dash into the fray and block all of Irelia's _Transcendent Blades_ and was currently pushing the Ionian backward. She threw a glance behind herself, her crimson gaze burning, before giving chase to the now fleeing Irelia. "Get up," she commanded.  
Katarina's head spun. A second ago, she was practically dead and now here she sat, alive and — _almost_ — well. And all that because _Riven had made a heroic jump to her rescue!_ She felt tears welling up and the urge to hysterically go into rhapsodies all over the place, but the sharp shout from the white-haired warrior was enough to shake her out of her reverie.

"I said _get up!_ " Not really used to taking orders from others — since there were so few in a higher position than herself — Katarina forced her battered body out of the dirt and clutched her side. A new minion wave was incoming and the tiny creeps shuffled around her to shield her from more damage before following their other Champion into the battle.  
Riven let out an annoyed growl, obviously directed at her, and kept pressing on with a power of will that was beyond Katarina's comprehension. She just _oozed_ strength; and the red-headed assassin found herself reminded of how fiercely she had fought in her prior days. It was not much of a difference to see her now. She blushed.

"Go back and heal up, I'll take care of this!" Riven barked when she saw that the Sinister Blade was _still_ standing there like an idiot. She could not remember her being so dense, but she shrugged it off… Katarina limped back behind the turret and heavily leant against it, releasing a deep sigh. Her Summoner took over and initiated the _Recall_ as blue lights enveloped the assassin.  
Her eyes went to Riven once more — intensely striving against Irelia who was by now camping under her own turret. A sadistic smirk curled the corners of her lips upward when the Noxian General regarded the dark-haired Ionian; her jungler was dead and would not be able to help her out of this one. _Fair trade_ , she decided and was teleported back to the nexus.

 

* * *

 

The shopkeeper threw a warm smile and the Sinister Blade felt somewhat irritated at the man's friendly behavior. He was never impolite or vengeful, regardless of who asked him for anything. She rolled her shoulders, feeling much better than before, and approached the weird-looking creature. _I wonder what species he is… A Yordle maybe?_ Then again, it was hard to determine… After all, his face was furry as heck.

"Sinister Blade, what can I get you this time?" She stepped closer to his small shop and the touch-screen stationary in the counter that displayed every item and equipment he had in store. Quickly browsing through the rather long list while simultaneously keeping an eye on him, Katarina discussed her purchase with her Summoner and eventually settled for a Haunting Guise, a pair of Sorcerer's Shoes and a few Health Potions plus a Stealth Ward.

This would hopefully make her a little more persevering, because Irelia's blades sure _hurt._ After the little shopping spree, she returned to her lane. Riven had already pushed past the turret — as had the annotator announced to the Champions on the Field — and was retreating into the jungle when she saw Katarina approaching. Sadly, Irelia had not fallen to Riven's blade, which was leaving her with a somewhat bitter taste in her mouth…  
However, the Sinister Blade steeled herself and stopped the warrior with a firm hand on her shoulder. The Exile halted and looked at her with a questioning gaze. "Thanks for ganking." There was a small pause in Riven and the assassin wondered if she would say something to her. But then she nodded and set off.

Katarina forced herself not to look after her. It would only distract her from the task at hand. Her gaze darkened — she had an Ionian to kill. Equipped with her new items, the laning phase went by a little more comfortable. She had immediately warded the tri-brush to prevent the enemies from catching her off-guard again and felt more at ease. Once Irelia had come back to lane, she and Katarina had held a moderate distance from each other.  
They rounded their minions carefully and only struck for a last hit when it was absolutely safe. Meanwhile, their bot lane turret got destroyed by the enemy team, but Ahri in mid lane wasn't doing too badly. Riven was quickly swinging from lane to lane and ganking whenever possible. She and Lee Sin had faced off behind the trees and brushes a few times and got out with an equal amount of kills and deaths.

Katarina's Red Buff had long since run out, but since her lane was pushed quite far — which wasn't really her doing, but whatever — she felt snug. After all, Lee Sin was just ganking bottom lane to push further and therefore she was completely safe—

—until there was a turquoise-colored blast of pure energy from the tri-brush that viciously crashed into her side and sent her flying a few meters. Her Stealth Ward had vanished, "Fuck!" The red-headed assassin fought herself up again; and just in time to block a _Bladesurge_ from Irelia.

She _Shunpo_ ed away from her assailant and saw Karma stepping out of the brush, her deep eyes trained on the assassin firmly. She had her hands raised in a fighting stance, her posture impressive as always. Irelia took position before her and they both lunged.  
"Dirty Ionians!" Katarina angrily yelled and ran; trying to fight them off with _Bouncing Blades._ Irelia was glaring at her, "Stop running, Sinister Blade! Face us _dirty Ionians!_ " The woman was blazing and it actually added some jocularity to the situation. Katarina cackled while running away and winked at her, flipping her off. Irelia shouted back an insult the Du Couteau was certain couldn't even be found in the pretty colorful vocabulary of her sister and she cackled some more.

Karma had a bored expression when she noticed that their opponent was making more distance. She concentrated her energy — "You know what they say… Karma always catches up to you." — and used her power to enhance her and Irelia's movement speed.  
"Lath Rian Oune Vi! Now, focus!" Katarina's expression slipped when she saw the aura encasing both Ionians and they were running up to her like two massive trains of doom. " _Help._ "

Her Summoner cursed in frustration and _Flash_ ed her a few meters ahead, but the enhancement of Karma's _Defiance_ was making it all useless. They caught up to her.

"Now, time to die!" Irelia made a jump and brought her blades down on her in an _Equilibrium Strike,_ effectively slowing her down for the Enlightened One to close the gap. She readied another _Mantra_ and hit Katarina with a _Soulflare_ which practically rooted her to the spot. Her Summoner shouted wildly and was talking about "getting Merc's Treads next time."  
_Shit, shit, shit! Need to get… out of here!_ She struggled against the monstrous slow but didn't make it out of Karma's range and the _Soulflare_ erupted in bright flames that engulfed her. "Take this, pesky Noxian!" Irelia yelled, digging her blades into her back. Katarina could only watch on in horror as her legs buckled out under her and the dark-haired warrior leapt and dealt the last strike.

This time there would be no Riven to save her.

 

* * *

 

A dark growl escaped her lungs and the Sinister Blade relaxed her sore muscles when she got up. The stone seat had been uncomfortable as always and the fact that her bruised butt still hurt like hell wasn't making it any better.

Her emerald eyes flickered opened and she threw a glance into the summoning chamber. Ashe and Leona looked quite beaten; they had lost against Miss Fortune and Nami who practically dominated the lane the whole match. Those two were merrily chit-chatting at the other side of the room and complementing each other for their skillful performance.  
Katarina threw a look over to Sarah who had an arm around the Tidecaller's shoulders and squeezed her — telling her something that made the fish giggle. She gritted her teeth at the display and wondered; Sarah rarely was affectionate toward someone but this actually seemed genuine. They left together without caring about anyone else.

Ahri was nowhere to be seen; the Nine-Tailed Fox was probably up and away to do how she pleased again. But what really ground Katarina's gears was the sight of Riven congratulating Lee Sin and _bowing_ before him. The two were being way too friendly with each other — Riven was still a goddamned Noxian and these guys over there were the _enemy._  
It spoiled her giant appetite a bit. The red-head crossed her arms over her chest and tried to listen in to their conversation, but the commotion going on in the room was too great. The Summoners were just disconnecting themselves from the Fields and quickly zoned in on their respective Champs.

Katarina already saw her Summoner, an incredibly tall young man, walking up to her when she decided she should be going. However, her gaze drifted over to where Irelia and Karma stood and the Will of the Blades was throwing her a look that said "Yes, I saw you were watching Riven." and the smirk plastered on her face added something akin to "She's no longer the same as you."  
It made the hairs on her neck stand on end. Her fingers twitched in an urge to grab her weapons and have a serious word with Irelia, but her Summoner had already reached her and was talking to her excitedly. She brushed him off and stormed out of the chamber.

"' _Karma catches up to you,_ '" she parroted the Enlightened One in a high-pitched tone and shook her head, "Pah, bullshit. I had _so_ won the lane had she not have to baby-sit that bitchy midget…" Her Summoner was left dumbfounded but didn't run after her — which was probably the healthier decision for him.

At the corner was Vladimir already waiting for her. She rolled her eyes when she saw him. "What's with that stupid grin? Did you give yourself a hand job again?" His face darkened immediately at that. "Honestly, what is wrong with you? I thought you'd be happy that you just won a match, but _no_ — you're rather nagging at me."  
She managed a grin at that, "That's right, you clever bastard." He followed her to the Noxian wing. "You did quite well against Irelia. Your sister and I were watching and even though you don't deserve it — I must say, I'm impressed."

He chuckled, "I mean, after that surprise attack from Lee Sin we both thought you would be done for, but you held your ground. And Riven had made an excellent entrance, so—" The red-headed assassin roughly shoved her elbow into his ribs at the name, "Okay, what the hell are you on about?" Vladimir watched her carefully. "Have you talked to her? I saw that you said something to her, but we couldn't hear it over the noises around… So what'd you say?" Katarina was silent.  
Usually she would have kicked him in the shin for poking his nose into things that were none of his business, but since Vladimir was — apart from her sister — the only one that knew her dirty little secret, she had to put up with it. Well, to a degree at least.

"Nothing," she snorted. It was true practically; she had said nothing with gossip potential. " _Nothing?_ " The Crimson Reaper just eyed her suspiciously. "Yes, Vlad, fucking _nothing._ Now leave me be, you're annoying." But the man was persistent as the headache you got when you heard someone screaming "DEMACIA!" — _maddening._  
Speaking of Demacia; the Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard was just entering the hallway before them. Katarina immediately felt queasy when he spotted her. _Oh God, please no…_ There was a gleam in his eyes and Garen began to swank — or rather tried to. With his chin up and chest out he swaggered down the corridor. He had his gaze entirely focused on her and when he passed, he drove a hand through his short hair and winked. _Someone kill me…_

The assassin turned away with wide eyes, feeling mortally embarrassed for him, and hoped Vladimir would spare her any ridiculous comments. But naturally, it was futile. " _Ohoho,_ someone's got _both_ their eyes on you." He nudged her in the side and threw a glance backward; only to see Garen intently checking out her rear end.  
The Might of Demacia straightened and turned away, a faint pink hue on his cheeks. Vladimir stifled his laughter, " _Superb._ " Katarina meanwhile was accelerating her pace to get away from this imbecile as fast as possible. "Shut up, Vlad. I don't wanna hear it."

He chuckled and they reached the Noxian wing. "Did _Riven_ ever check out your ass?" She punched him, face bright red, "What the fuck?! Shut your lousy mouth, you giant blooper!" Now he laughed. "Why so on edge, my dear? No need to worry, you do have a fine rear to watch," he added and gave her a slap on the butt to which she only jumped. "Watch it, creep! My ass still hurts…" Katarina mumbled and for a second he watched her with a confused expression before dismissing it.

"So, you didn't answer my question. What did you say to our beloved Exile?" She ignored him. "Come on, darling, I know how you feel. It's okay, I'm here to help you with—" Katarina's eye twitched. She grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him against the wall, bringing her face up close to his frightened stare. " _Eep._ "  
"You wanna know what I said to her?" A mean grin appeared. "I asked her _about her opinion on_ _FEATHER BOAS!_ " Vladimir shrunk away and made a hurt face — okay, maybe that idea wasn't the best he ever had. But she didn't try it, so she couldn't say it wouldn't work anyway. "Ugh!" Katarina threw her arms up in the air and stomped to her room, while the Crimson Reaper pushed himself off the wall. "Fine, I get it."

She was already halfway through her door when he called, "Swain wants to see us later. You better not get wasted before the meeting, Katarina." He threw her a look and then disappeared in the direction of his own room, but not without hearing her firing back across the whole corridor, "And you? Did you talk to Taric yet?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] I have never tried Taric in-game actually… but his potential in fanfiction is truly outrageous :_D
> 
> And, to further disappoint you: I won't be able to upload in the next week. Exams are coming and I need to prepare for them. I'll try to write the next chapter though and maybe I can publish it as soon as my exams are over.
> 
> By the way: Kat says thanks for the "get well" wishes. It didn't really help though 8D


	5. Chapter 05

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Welcome back to Party at Swain's Place! At least that was the working title of this chapter when I wrote it… Thanks for your patience; I hope you will not be disappointed with this chapter :-P
> 
> Let me know what you think and have fun reading!

Katarina pushed the door to the meeting room opened and waltzed in, kicking it closed again with her foot. Her sudden intrusion drew the looks of the present Noxian Champions, but the Sinister Blade ignored them expertly. Her eyes scanned the room and she made a sharp turn to the right, promptly planting herself down on the sofa between her sister and Talon. Cassiopeia threw her an angered glare, but she didn't acknowledge it.

Her fellow assassin just nodded shortly and shifted over. Cassiopeia hissed, "What the hell, Kat?" But the older Du Couteau dismissed her with a mumble. "Sorry, this ain't finished yet…" So she drew a knife from her thigh and started picking at the thick wooden table before her — continuing exactly where she had left off last meeting.  
She had already completed the Noxian crest with its little skull and little weapons, and currently she was picturing a small mini-comic in which she was murdering Garen in many marvelous ways. Talon glanced over to her and pointed out how well she had managed to carve out his incredibly big mouth in a death scream. It really was a miracle — whenever he shouted Demacia's motto, you could literally look into his stomach and see what he had had for lunch. It was beyond gross.

Cassiopeia just eyed them both with a curious look, then shook her head. Vladimir was sitting on the other side of the table, lazily swirling a droplet of his own blood around in the air. There was silence in the room despite the annoying sound of metal scratching wood and Cassiopeia was harshly grinding her teeth.  
Eventually, the door opened and in came Draven. The Glorious Executioner was smirking and swaggered to sit beside Vladimir, " _Hello, ladies._ " Behind him, a very grumpy-looking Darius entered. When Draven waved him over to sit beside him, he just glared and deliberately sat down at the other end of the table.

That had his brother glooming a little, but luckily his ego was way too large to sustain any lasting damage. No, Draven just turned his attention to the two women before him. Cassiopeia pulled up an eyebrow, already annoyed by him and his antics.  
"So, whatcha doin' there, beautiful?" he asked directed at Katarina, but she didn't reply. "Finishing your drawings? Man, you got style!" When he leant over the table to take a closer look at Garen impaled on three Noxian spears, the Sinister Blade slapped him on the wrist. "Don't you dare, Draven!"

He recoiled, "Not Draven; _Draaaaven._ " A grunt was the response, but the man simply gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up, "Nice picture anyways. You go, girl!" Darius only sat there and tried not to facepalm at his little brother, but it proved harder every day. Since he had joined the League, he had become an even bigger attention whore.  
Last week, he had even spent a few hours in the Dungeons — because he just couldn't stop pestering the Summoners and one of them had eventually called the Judicator to deal with him. Kayle had promptly thrown him in there for a while to think about his behavior. But he wouldn't be Draven of course if he changed his ways because of some inconvenience. Darius sighed.

Luckily for everyone, before the crazy man could do anything else, Swain and LeBlanc entered. The Noxians straightened at seeing the Grand General and Matron of the Black Rose; obviously the highest ranking personalities in the small room. And heck, the room _was_ small.  
Beatrice frantically flew over the heads of the people assembled and cawed away until she perched on Swain's pauldron and eyed Katarina for a short time. She shuddered; God, that bird's stare was burning holes into her very soul. _Geez…_ And as if the creepy poultry was somehow mentally communicating with its master, Swain bored his eyes into her as well. She subtly let the knife in her hand disappear under the table top and placed her arm over her latest carving.

The Master Tactician sat down beside Darius, at one head end of the table, while LeBlanc took a seat at the other. She darted a disgusted look at Draven and inched a little closer to Cassiopeia. The Serpent's Embrace didn't exactly like the Deceiver, but in this case she didn't even mind.

Swain threw a glance into the round, "Very well. I have called you all here today to further discuss the course of action regarding our infiltration of the League." He was met with interested silence, LeBlanc was leisurely swirling a spoon through her tea — and no one wondered where the hell it came from just now. The tea cup was probably only an illusion anyway… Just like LeBlanc herself. _And the meeting, hopefully,_ Katarina added mentally.  
"Singed informed me the other day that he and Dr. Mundo were making great progress in developing a new substance to manipulate a person's nervous system — and thus their brain. They left the League for a while and are currently in Zaun to administer the last tests."

"What kind of serum are we talking about exactly?" LeBlanc asked politely and sipped from her tea. The man locked gazes with the Deceiver, but the woman didn't even flinch, "It is a liquid preparation to be injected right into the spinal cord. It will cause a neurological disorder within the target's nervous system and enable another person to manipulate them."  
That had the whole party, minus the Matron, gaping, "That way, we can inject the serum into the High Councilors and take control over the League without having anyone taking guesses. The effect will only be temporary, but it will suffice for our cause."

LeBlanc pulled up an elegant eyebrow and shot him a disbelieving look, "And as of now, they are still experimenting on lab rats, is that it?" Swain returned a hard stare, "No. Singed assured me that the recipe is complete and the serum will be ready to be injected in a person's organism in only a few more days. They just need to change the dose of a few ingredients and it will be done."  
His unsettling gaze swayed over his inferiors. "Some of you… will be the test subjects." Katarina lifted her chin at that and Cassiopeia positively hissed in resentment. Her tongue darted back and forth, "So you're telling me I should provide my body for some adulterated cocktail that _might_ transform my brain to mush for only a period of time, but is more likely to permanently reduce me to a mentally deranged person? And here I'm still being generous in my assumption that it won't _kill_ me instantly."

He didn't reply, but his jaws clenched. The Grand General was obviously displeased to hear such vehement refusal. Talon lowered his head to shield the expression on his face from view. He probably thought the exact same thing as Katarina herself. "Cassiopeia… I'm not giving you a choice on the matter," Swain said darkly.  
The younger Du Couteau glared at him indignantly. LeBlanc sipped from her tea, but otherwise didn't give anything away. Draven just scratched his chin — knowing him and his craving for everyone's attention, he would probably take the risk with Singed's chemical mix. "That's cracked," he said, "I'm doin' it."

Darius tensed up but held his mouth shut. Swain seemed pleased at this. "A volunteer, good. The others should take a leaf out of your book, Draven." The Glorious Executioner beamed and banged his fists on the table, leaving imprints, "I'm _totally_ doin' it!"  
_What the fuck are you doing, Swain…?_ Katarina narrowed her eyes. This was definitely going to be an issue. Whatever Swain had the Mad Scientist and Mundo working on was going to be highly dangerous for anyone; no exception.

She had expected him to discard the idea when he had first said something about such a thing a few months ago. She had not thought he would actually go through with it — and even when she disregarded the fact that _Singed_ of all people was one of the creators of this quack remedy; considering the short development time, it was very likely to be a fatal failure. Katarina swallowed; she did not want her sister to have to take this stuff. Vladimir was unusually quiet as well, not even meeting her gaze.

Swain continued when nobody responded to his indirect order. "I did not expect you to agree with me right after tonight…" _Or at all,_ the Sinister Blade almost snorted. "You still have some time before Singed returns with the final results." His eyes became dark, "Better reconcile with the idea, though."

Katarina pressed her jaws together, her hands gripping the knife under the table. _You bastard…_ Swain let his words sink in and rose; Beatrice giving a loud caw. "I will inform you of anything else. Until then, keep from attracting attention."  
With that, he turned and left. Surprisingly enough, Darius didn't follow him. He sat rooted to the spot, his glare boring into the table top. Vladimir huffed, "Out with it, Darius." He must have noticed too.

The Hand of Noxus stared at him for a long moment before addressing the whole party, "I know this may not sound like sunshine and roses, but if this is a means to strengthen our military and take control of the League, we have to do it." Vladimir shot him a look, "By trial and error?! Are you kidding me? This is going to be someone's death, I already see it coming!"  
"Careful, Crimson Reaper… You're still talking to your superior." He actually shrunk back a little, averting his white eyes and resuming the action of messing around with his blood. "Well, it's easy for you to talk, Darius! _You_ probably _don't_ have to be available for Singed's shit!" Cassiopeia leant forward and hissed at the precious right hand of their Grand General. His face turned to stone — "No, but I have a _brother_ who will." — and glared at Draven, silently cursing him for his big-ass mouth.

Draven on the other hand didn't even notice. He was currently staring into his handheld mirror, making smooching faces at himself. The others shook their heads at him.

There was a tense silence in the room and every Noxian was left to their own thoughts. Katarina absentmindedly brought the knife back to the surface and continued picking her comic. _This is idiotic… Why doesn't he simply let Singed inject his own death sentence to himself? Why do we have to put up with it? That's unfair and cowardly!_ She fumed again.  
Eventually, Darius stood and made to leave. Draven immediately jumped up as well. Before the Hand of Noxus left however, he hesitated in the door frame. "Stay true to our cause… and Noxus will rise." Then the Blood Brothers were gone.

There was a chuckle to Katarina's right and she looked at LeBlanc, who had just finished her tea. The Deceiver glanced back with a fine sophisticated smirk on her dark lips. "Well, it is late already. I should be going as well — there is so much to do still." Vladimir grunted, "What, already leaving the party?" She made a smug face, "I'm afraid so. There are important things I must attend to, but you go ahead and enjoy…" she made a meaningful pause, "…the rest of your time."  
Katarina felt the need to grab her and pump her until she spit all her dirty little secrets, but the Deceiver vanished with a loud 'poof' — and there was nothing more left but the empty tea cup. All eyes stared at the blank place. So she had been a clone after all.

_I wonder what else they have in store for us…_

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Katarina managed to catch her sister before the door to her room. The last four of them had gone their separate ways to think about Swain's plan of action and Katarina — while wolfing down a feast in the canteen to still her protesting tummy — had come to the only logical conclusion on the matter. It was quite obvious, really.

"What in the— Kat?" Cassiopeia hissed, the scales on her lower body standing on edge. Her sister had snuck up on her from behind and was now shoving her into her room. "What do you want? It's quite late," she whined and made a beeline for her bed.  
The Sinister Blade shuffled inside the bedroom and checked the windows for a spy aka Beatrice. She pulled the curtains closed, while Cassiopeia looked on bored. "Kat, what are you doing?"

"Be quiet. I'm checking the environment." The Serpent's Embrace made a confused face, bewildered at her sister's behavior. "What for? There's no one here." Eventually, Katarina settled down on the bed as well, intently staring at the younger Du Couteau.  
"Swain is an idiot. He can't really expect any of us to be his lab rats. Well, aside from Draven of course…" she waved her hand dismissively, "But that's not the point." Cassiopeia crossed her arms over her chest, "What _is_ the point then?"

For a moment, the red-headed assassin carefully seemed to search for the right words. She looked away, not daring to meet her sister's eyes. _Gosh, this shouldn't be so embarrassing. She's my sis, goddammit._ She took a deep breath, "I don't want you to volunteer."  
The serpentine woman blinked at her a few times and then burst out in amused laughter, "Aha, and what makes you think I would actually volunteer for this madness? Come on, Kat, I know you don't give my credit for my intelligence, but I'm not _that_ stupid."

Katarina remained utterly serious. "I mean it, Cass. Swain is playing a dangerous game this time and I…" she struggled again, "…I don't want anything to happen to you."

That, plus the somewhat forlorn look in her sister's eyes was enough to make her stop laughing. She held Katarina's gaze, and saw a rosy color on her cheeks. It made her feel slightly warmer around her heart. "Kat… Are you worried about me?"  
"You're my sister… Of course I am!" she mumbled, the blush intensifying. The younger Du Couteau was a little speechless — she and Katarina had never been so in touch with their feelings toward each other, but hearing her sister say that she cared for her was really endearing.

Cassiopeia reached out and squeezed her hand, a slight smile on her lips. She didn't know what to say, so she assumed it would be best to remain silent. Katarina returned the squeeze, but then pulled her hand back and got up.  
"Well, I'll be going now. I got a headache from all this bullshit, I guess it's bed time… Or time for a drink…" That didn't go unheard and the Serpent's Embrace was back to her unsentimental state of mind. "Don't let me catch you lurking around Gragas' bar, Kat. You better head straight for your quarters; your little drinking problem is getting out of hand."

The Sinister Blade shot her a glare, "Tseh, it's not." She turned and was about to leave when she dropped another bomb this evening, "I'll volunteer for Swain. That way you won't have to do it." Cassiopeia was just about to argue with her, but when she turned around to face her sister, she was already gone.

She bit her lip, the same concern that had her sister in a death grip gnawing at her, "Dammit, Kat…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] No Riven this time, sorry to disappoint. I decided to add a little more depth to the story and worked out an actual — albeit very rough — script. Let's see if I manage to stick with it :-P
> 
> Plus, I think I won't be able to upload very regularly. I have a new job and I need to sort some personal stuff out, which will consume some of my free time. But I promise I'll try and upload new chapters whenever I can.


	6. Chapter 06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Hey there everyone! This chapter took me some time and I must admit I'm not entirely happy with it. The second part just doesn't sit right with me.

The next few days went by without too many incidents. Katarina had managed to avoid Riven for the most part which she was quite thankful for. Surprising even to herself, she found that she had different things on her mind than the Exile. Well, for now at least.  
Other than that, Renekton had managed to break out of his prison and get the Institute's Archives on fire just to drive his brother mad — which had worked very well, by the way. He was now sitting in a deeper level of the Dungeons, accompanying Nocturne. It had caused quite the commotion and Nasus had the Archives closed for the next weeks. Many, many Summoners and Champions alike had given their signature for a petition to remove Renekton from the League entirely. Said topic was currently discussed about most in the Institute.

Since the meeting with her fellow Noxians, Katarina had mentally debated whether or not to share her thoughts regarding Swain's plan with Vladimir or maybe Talon. She could probably trust them, but in Noxian society, you usually only relied on yourself… Cassiopeia had tried to talk her out of volunteering for his dark schemes, but the Sinister Blade had made her decision — she would do it if it meant keeping her sister from harm.  
She took a deep breath when she stood before the door and knocked. It took a few anxious seconds when it opened and she tensed at the sight of eight glowing eyes staring at her intently. Beatrice cawed her in the face and spread her ruffled wings, and once more the Du Couteau noticed what an ugly bird she was.

"May I come in?" Swain looked at her expectantly and then moved to the side for her to enter. Katarina made a few careful steps into his room, strangely aware of the fact that she was in her superior's realm right now. _In the raven's nest…_  
Swain walked past her and sat down in his massive armchair before gesturing for her to take a seat as well. Katarina clenched her jaws and waited for him to give her permission to speak. You could not be careful enough when it came to this man after all. "Well?"

 _Here goes nothing._ She steeled her resolve, giving her best determined stare. "I'm here to volunteer for Singed's serum." Swain pulled up an eyebrow but didn't give anything else away. Beatrice was on her perch to Katarina's right, boring her six red eyes into her skull.  
"You said you wanted volunteers — now you have two of them." The Master Tactician remained silent for a long time, his thumb absentmindedly alternating between tapping and drawing circles on his armrest. He seemed completely passive to Katarina, but the assassin knew that the engine that was his brilliant mind was racing a mile a minute.

She waited for a response, getting equally annoyed and unnerved. _Goddammit, say something you evil bastard._ Her eyes flickered to Beatrice for a second; the raven staring back with its head tilted to the right. _And give me a gun to shoot this diabolic bird. It's freaking me out._  
Somewhere in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind, Katarina had a suspicion that it was actually Beatrice who pulled the strings behind the curtain. This winged Satan was way too intelligent for its own good.

Beatrice puffed up suddenly and the Sinister Blade had almost recoiled. _Hell yes, it's the bird._ Then Swain spoke up, "What exactly do you hope to accomplish telling me that, Katarina?" She returned her attention to the man in front of her, sporting her best questioning gaze, "Well you said you wanted us to come to terms with the idea. I did, and now I'm here." She narrowed her eyes at him, "Did you change your mind all of a sudden?"  
She knew Swain did not like to hear his inferiors adept such a tone, but he would let the General get away with it from time to time. He leant back and it made Katarina relax a little more too. "Very well. It's good to see you offering your assistance. However…" His eyes became dark, "…I must decline."

 _Wait, what?_ That had the Du Couteau puzzled, "Excuse me?" Swain averted his gaze to look at Beatrice and the bird reacted. It leapt from its perch and hopped on his arm, letting him pet her. Katarina felt her anger rising at the dismissive gesture. Oh, and his words of course.  
"It's no secret that you have been consuming a large amount of alcohol lately. And considering that, I fear the alcohol level in your blood will interfere with the serum's effects." His eyes flickered back to her, "I assume you understand that I cannot take any risks?"

He didn't really expect an answer to that question. Katarina gritted her teeth and tried her best to hide her frustration. _That_ was definitely interfering with her own plans. The Grand General turned his face toward her, an intimidating glare in his eyes, "You are unsuited to be a test subject." The red-head was at a loss for words and Swain certainly noticed.  
He narrowed his eyes at her; guessing, suspecting and concluding correctly in no time, "I will have your sister available instead." Katarina took a deep, deep breath — knowing immediately that she had given herself away somehow. _Fuck, he caught me._ She knew her expression was stressed, but now that Swain knew she wanted to spare Cassiopeia any harm, it was futile to do anything more.

He was a sadistic asshole through and through — but she had never been the target of his cruelty herself. Well, at least not until now. She ground her teeth some more, _If you're not rebelling against him then you're getting on well with him, but_ _ **if**_ _you are…_ There was little use antagonizing the Grand General.

Still, she tried. She leant forward, supporting herself on her knees and licked her lips as casually as she could muster, "Are you sure about that? She's half a _snake_ now, her body is constantly producing poison. Are you sure this will _not_ interfere with the serum?" Swain managed a weary smile, the corners of his mouth curling upward underneath the cloth covering the lower half of his face. "Most certainly."

 _You little… treacherous…_ _ **piece of shit.**_ _Turning your own people in like that!_ She was raging and unconsciously kneaded her fists. If looks could kill, Swain would have died the most painful death. On the spot. But the Master Tactician relaxed back into his armchair, Beatrice cooing contently. Katarina would need a serious distraction after this conversation. Maybe an intense workout in the training room. Just to let off steam.  
Swain gingerly shooed Beatrice away from his arm and stood, his massive statue towering over Katarina even when she stood up as well. The chestplate he wore shone faintly, presenting the Noxian crest. She swallowed at the sight.

"If that is all, I would like to return to my business." Katarina mutely nodded and left.

 

* * *

 

It was already late when Katarina found herself straying through the endless corridors of the Institute. After returning to her room, she had been restless — the content of what had been said throbbing in her brain like a pimple in your face. Yes, that described it surprisingly well. So without much pondering, she had went to Gragas' bar, or rather the hidden storage room nearby, and tossed one down. Or maybe two, she couldn't really remember.  
And now here she was; a bit lubricated and walking the hallways. The Du Couteau had her fists shoved into her pockets and avoided most of the figures crossing her way. She had also narrowly avoided an encounter with Garen; much to her contentment. He was the biggest nuisance imaginable and the fact that he didn't understand that she was not interested in him was only making it worse.

Katarina scoffed, "Moron…" Her numb feet led her all the way to the vast garden and the Sinister Blade decided to take a walk outside. Maybe freezing her ass off would do her good… or soothe the dull ache in her buttocks.

With a grimace on her face, she opened the large door and pressed her teeth together as the cold hit her. The scenery was quite pleasant to look at — glistening snow covering the grass and trees and little brushes in stillness. It wasn't snowing anymore and there was not a single breeze in the standing air.  
Katarina growled, but forced herself to take a few steps. Better freeze than drink herself to death. She heaved a mocking scoff at her own thoughts. _Damn this Vladimir… I mean, 'm not a fuckin' addict or anythin'._ Because two tiny little shots a day didn't mean anything, right? Everyone had their own demons after all… Though she knew certain people thought something else.

She followed the gently curved path that led through the garden, every breath transforming into a small white cloud before evaporating. There was no one out now, but she could see the last remnants of footsteps of varying forms and sizes in the snow leading into the woods. Tiny blue flames — indisputably of magical nature — were flanking the way.  
Katarina brushed a few lost strands of hair out of her face and bristled at the cold, her visit to Swain playing over and over in her head. She would have to tell her sister. And she didn't look forward to it.

It wasn't until she couldn't see the Institute behind the thick walls of snow-covered trees anymore that her ears picked up some pieces of quiet conversation. She wasn't really interested in whatever other people were doing out here, but in the end, her curiosity got the better of her.  
_I got nothing better do to anyway_ , she thought dryly. Albeit the snow was glowing brightly and Katarina must have stuck out like a sore thumb with her black clothes, she merged with the shadows surrounding the trees perfectly. It was a good thing it was already late in the evening.

The Sinister Blade rounded another thick trunk and carefully leant forward — _and her heart nearly stopped._

There, in a secluded area shielded from view by vegetation, stood Riven and Irelia.

When she caught her jaw before positively dropping to the ground, she pulled back and tensed up, her heart restarting at an almost painful pace. _What in the world…?_ Katarina swallowed and tried to analyze the situation. They were just standing there, not even particularly close to each other, but _what in the world_ were they doing here — all alone, at this time of the day?

Her lungs seized up, the memory of Irelia leaving the training room when Riven had arrived just returning from the pit she had thrown it into, and it made it difficult to think straight. She had not imagined to walk in on _this_ — no, not all. Her hands clutched at the tree.

"Did you think about my offer?" The Will of the Blades had a polite smile on her lips, her gaze carefully placed at anything else but Riven. The warrior was wrapped up in a thick brown cloak, a teal-colored scarf around her neck. "Yes, I did actually." She looked to the ground, briefly debating about something, _But what?_  
Katarina saw the faint gleam of hope in the Ionian's eyes, even through her hazy vision, and suspected the worst. "And you're sure it's not too much trouble for you?" Irelia jumped at this, the coy smile bursting out into a full grin, "Of course it's not!" She pulled a smug face and it made Katarina want to vomit before her very feet. "I wouldn't have proposed the idea to you if I knew it would cause any trouble."

 _Hold on a minute, did she say 'propose'?!_ Proposals usually meant only one thing… "Trust me." Irelia took a step forward and placed her hand on Riven's arm and — _**Holy shit,**_ _get your filthy paws off her, you bitch!_ — the assassin fumed. Her blood was rushing in her ears.  
Riven was turning away from her and it enraged her even more that she couldn't see her face, couldn't see what was going on. All she could grasp was that Riven wasn't shying away from the touch. She wasn't sure over the dizziness swirling through her head, but the tone in Riven's voice didn't sound offended — no, it appeared as if she was quite fine with the whole situation.

"I do." She made a deliberate pause after that, Katarina noticed, and it caused her heart to make a sickening jump. Her mind raced while Riven spoke.

 _Please don' tell me…_ "And I would really like to…"

 _This can't be true!_ "…come with you…"

 _I… I can't let this happen!_ "…to Ionia."

_**NO!** _

The Du Couteau jumped from her hiding spot and revealed herself in a manic laughing fit. She stumbled into the clearing, completely startling both Riven and Irelia. The Exile had almost drawn her sword at the sudden intrusion and clenched her jaws at the sight of the red-headed assassin, her usually focused eyes completely glazed.  
She was laughing, obviously forced, and had a knife drawn. She was gesturing in the air. "I'm _so_ sorry to interrupt, but… Ahahaha. Y'know, I couldn't help but overhear the two of you!" Her burning gaze bore into Irelia's — clearly saying "SUCCESSFULLY CRASHED YOUR PARTY!"

She didn't have the slightest clue why she had lost control like that — not at all used to act so recklessly —, but the expressions Riven and Irelia were making at her were effectively putting her wayward brain back into its tracks. _Oh shit… Stupid, stupid, stupid! Should have stayed behind the fucking tree, goddammit!_  
"Katarina, what are you doing here?" She shifted her attention to the Exile and felt a lump in her throat. _You bitch are really going to leave?_ "Who the fuck cares? I mean, I could ask you just the same! What are _you_ doing here, Riven?!" Damn, she was furious. The Du Couteau's breathy voice was not lost on the women facing her.

Irelia was dead-silent, eyes darting from Katarina to the Exile and back again. This was not how she had planned the evening… The white-haired warrior took a firm step forward and extended her hand in a calming gesture; obviously trying to coax the assassin to lower her weapon.  
"Katarina, calm down. You're not—" But she wouldn't listen. The knife flung itself at the tree behind her and pierced the thick bark with a 'clunk'. "Don't you shit me, Riven!" Her face was scrunched up, lips drawn into a thin line, and her posture completely tense.

 _You can't just go away with this Ionian bitch! She's the enemy, you have to—_ her train of thought broke as a weak gasp escaped her, but she wasn't finished. "You're really going to leave for Ionia? Seriously, Riven? After everything…" Irelia held her breath; had she miscalculated the whole situation with the Sinister Blade? "After everything Noxus gave you?!"  
Riven didn't react physically. She let the question hang in the air for a moment and pondered its actual meaning. It was obvious Katarina was furious, but her point was not yet quite clear to her. She balled her hands to fists, speculating, "This isn't about Noxus." It was not a question.

Katarina immediately took the bait. She spat into the snow to the warrior's feet, "No, of course it's not!" Her pulse was rapid and it didn't help the ache in her heart. "Then say what you mean already." This time, it was Riven's voice with a slight edge to it.  
The redhead felt like drowning in her burning anger. She just wanted to throw everything right into her face and see her buried alive under the weight of her cowardice and betrayal and the _ignorance._

"Say it!" the warrior pressed and that made her burst. " _After everything_ _ **I**_ _gave you?!_ " She whipped her hands through the air as if she was literally throwing the words at her head. Her eyes were glinting and her hands numb, and her brain hurt like hell.  
"My attention, my admiration, my—" her words got stuck in her throat as it seized up with a lump of goddamned emotions. Irelia's eyebrows shot up so high at this, they positively vanished under her hairline. Riven stood her ground firmly, eyebrows pulled low, and she made another daring step forward, "Your what?"

… _Is it really that hard to figure out?_ She clenched her teeth and balled tight fists when the Exile reached her and grabbed her by the wrist.

" _My time!_ " Katarina screamed at the top of her lungs, roughly pushing the woman and turning sharply — to hide the disgusting things that were filling her eyes. Riven stood back and neither she nor Irelia followed her when she stormed out of sight, but they both could take a guess what she had meant to say…

Riven's face softened and there was a distant expression in her crimson gaze. She spoke quietly and not even Irelia heard it, "Not your _time,_ was it?"

A few tense moments passed when The Will of the Blades regained her composure, "Ehm, so…" She turned away from the spot where Katarina had stood and she was mildly surprised to see the Exile still staring after her. She steeled her resolve, "What were you going to say, anyway?" Riven turned back to her, the small smile back on her face, eyes still glazed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] I don't feel like I managed to pull off the scene how I imagined it :-\ But eeh, things are always a little different in my mind than they are on my visual paper afterwards.
> 
> Anyways… Oh, the drama! :-D


	7. Chapter 07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Brace yourselves — more drama incoming! This sweetie pie had the creative title "Aftermath of sudden outburst". As I mentioned before, I wanted to add some depth to the story and here you have some interesting new events concerning Swain's evil plan!

The loud banging on her door eventually pissed her off enough to get up from her bed and answer it. Cassiopeia took off her glasses and angrily tossed the book she was reading to the side. She cursed under her breath when she slithered out of her bedroom, yanking the door opened.  
The Du Couteau was ready to unleash her fury on the one who dared to disturb her at this hour, but when she was met with her crumpled sister, she swallowed it. Katarina didn't give her enough time to adjust and shoved her out of the way while stumbling in, "Life _sucks!_ " Her exclamation was accompanied by an awful smell of breath and the Serpent's Embrace screwed up her nose.

Katarina maneuvered herself to the couch and fell down face-first, her legs awkwardly dangling off the armrest, "Cass, I wanna die. Wouldcha bury me at home in our garden? I always liked our garden…" The younger Du Couteau crossed her arms and sat down in the chair opposite from the sofa, oddly eying her sister. If the stench coming out of her mouth wasn't anything to go by, it certainly was the empty bottle in her hand.  
_Kumungu Ironthorn… Gross._ Cassiopeia made a face; this stuff was able to kill you from the horrible taste only. She snatched the bottle away and ignored any muffled protests when she directly dumped it into the bin. "What the hell happened? You look like shit."

She didn't feel like going soft on her sister, especially not when she was drunk as a skunk again. They had talked about this issue often enough and Cassiopeia didn't see herself responsible for her big sister's midlife crisis. Katarina grunted and turned to her side with some effort, showing her puffed-up face. She had been crying. "I talked to Riven."  
The Serpent's Embrace quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms before her chest, _Then why are you so fucked up?_ "Well, that's a start, isn't it?" Katarina threatened to burst out in tears once more, "'twas _horrible,_ Cass! She's leavin' for Ionia! With'at _little bitch!_ "

That was something else, of course. The younger Du Couteau slithered to sit before the couch, trying to make her sister focus. "Did she say that to you?" Katarina nodded. "Wow. Didn't expect that…" Her sister made a gesture with her hand, "'f course not! Why da fuck would she wanna go to dat place? Nothin' but hillbillies there!"  
Had her snake alarm bell not rung so vehemently, she would have made fun of the situation. But Cassiopeia put her own amusement back for Katarina's sake. "'n that's not even the worst news!" she almost gurgled and rolled onto her back with a lot of shuffling. "Swain's a bitch too! He wouldn't lemme be at the ready for Singed's stuff… Y'know, the serum?"

Now that was interesting news. Cassiopeia pulled an eyebrow up and intently watched her sister, motioning for her to continue. Her face was tense, "Said I was drinkin' too much. Asshole… I'm not… Right, Cass? You know 'm not." There was a rather uncomfortable pause in the Serpent's Embrace at that question. Too bad for her, Katarina noticed. She eyed her through half-closed lids and her formerly empty gaze was glinting suddenly. "Right, Cass?"

The younger Du Couteau stood and licked her lips — an instinctive gesture she retreated back to whenever she was nervous. And for some ungodly reason, Katarina caught this change in behavior. She tilted her head to the side and stared, "Dafuq?"  
"You know… I think you should try and drink less. It's not healthy for your—" Katarina sat up in an instant. "What the fuck, Cassiopeia?! You think Imman addict?! That Imma fuckin' alco or what?!" When Katarina used her full name, it always meant bad news. Usually someone would end up in tears. Or with their legs broken.

"Calm down, Kat, I just said maybe Swain's not entirely wrong about—" She got interrupted again; this time the Sinister Blade was more furious than confused. "On who's fuckin' side're you on, bitch!? I was tryin' to help ya and now yur stabbing me in ma fuckin' back!" She shot up from the couch — almost tripping over her own two feet had Cassiopeia not caught her in time — and roughly pushed her away. "Don'tchu touch me, _freak._ "

Cassiopeia froze, a very painful sting in her chest immobilizing her. That word was what they used to call her with right after her transformation, when she couldn't defend herself. The Serpent's Embrace straightened, her eyes becoming dark. Katarina had been the one to defend her when their father wasn't present. And now she was the one using this word exactly.  
She balled two tight fists and could taste her own poison in her mouth — a natural reaction that occurred when she was infuriated. Her body wanted nothing more than to unleash its terrifying power upon her sister, but…

She grabbed Katarina's wrist firmly and dragged her to the door, all the while ignoring her protests and feeble tugs. "You should be going now, Katarina." Her sister was putting up a fight, but in her inebriated stare, she was not a match for Cassiopeia.  
"I said don't touch me! L-Lemme go!" The Serpent's Embrace pushed her out of her room and towered in the door frame, "Sleep it off before you come to me again. I'm tired of being your headshrinker."

Katarina's eyes went wide. "Da hell did ya jussay to me?" Cassiopeia remained unmoving, her vibrant eyes shining. "You heard me. Go back to your room, you're making a fool out of yourself." She glanced at Katarina before throwing the door closed and the Sinister Blade needed a second to comprehend that her little sister had just shut the door in her face.  
She raised her fist and banged against it rapidly, the poor wood shaking in the frame. "Yur not closin' a door in ma face, ya hear me?! Open up, Cass! I ain't finished with you!" But there was no sound from the other side.

And that only added as fuel for Katarina's burning anger. She felt her face heating up from rage and she continued pressuring the door. "Cass! I know you hear me! Yur really goin' ta leave me standin' here?! Honestly?!" Her fist hurt so she changed hands, but her sister wouldn't open up again. "Cass! Goddammit, Cass…!"  
And suddenly it was all a little too much. " _Fuck it, man…_ " The fact she couldn't protect her sister from Swain's madness, and the fact that the woman she was so smitten with would be leaving. Her breath hitched in her throat and tears sprung to her eyes as her strength eventually left her. " _Cass?_ " Her voice was almost not audible and the usually so impressive woman braced herself on the door, slowly sinking to her knees.

"Cass? Please open…" A sob, and then she tore up. "Please…"

 

* * *

 

The next day, the Sinister Blade found herself in her bed. Her headache was making it difficult to keep sleeping once she woke up, so she struggled herself free from the covers and stumbled into the bathroom and up to the mirror. "Ugh…" She looked like Urgot. Which was never a good sign.

She wiped her face in a vain attempt to ease the deep furrows on her forehead as she tried to recall the events from yesterday. _Uhh…_ "Fuck, Cass…" Barely remembering all of their conversation, but definitely their fight, the Du Couteau decided it was probably useless to go and talk to her now. "God… I called her a freak, didn't I?" She buried her face in her hands. "Fuck…"

Katarina grunted and took a cold shower, hoping it would wake her aching muscles. She had made herself somewhat presentable before she left her room and headed straight to the dining hall. As usual, there were only a few Champions. Most of the people around consisted of Summoners and tourists visiting the Institute.  
The Sinister Blade treated herself to a sandwich and a yogurt. That would have to suffice. Plus a coffee — strong black, because she was not a sissy — and she was ready to go. Or at least that was what she thought when she spotted Vladimir sitting on their table.

He was looking at her sharply and the unspoken order was clear. Katarina sighed and rolled her eyes before taking a seat in front of him. There was a brief silence before the Crimson Reaper spoke up, "How did you sleep?"  
"Fuck you, Vlad." If her crumpled face was not evidence enough that she, in fact, did not sleep very well, then he must have been as blind as Lee Sin. She imagined Vladimir with a blind fold over his eyes and couldn't help but grin. He pulled an eyebrow at her.

"Care to fill me in on the joke?" That made her grin disappear, "What the heck's wrong with you? You're not usually so bitchy." She took a bite out of her sandwich and grimaced at the taste. Vladimir sighed, poking his salad with a fork, "You were a mess when I found you in the corridor yesterday." He looked up and shot her a meaningful glance, "You were lucky you were in the Noxian wing. Imagine what would have happened if a Champion of Demacia had seen you."

Katarina frowned; okay, that would have been quite a disastrous scenario. She averted her eyes and munched on her sandwich. "What's your point?" Vladimir speared a tomato, fascinatedly watching as the red juice spilled out of the poor vegetable, "You really need to get a hold of yourself, Katarina. We can't afford to show weakness. Especially—"  
She cut him off, " _Weakness?_ Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm not _weak!_ " But the Crimson Reaper stood strong, "Don't even try, Katarina. I know you're… confused about the situation with Riven at the moment, but you're letting it get to you. And that's not helping us in any way right now."

The Du Couteau recoiled at his serious tone and slowly understood what he meant. "You mean concerning Swain?" He nodded, white eyes glowing. It seemed he was taking a subtle look around, "I take it we both realize that Swain is putting our life at great risk. And not even Darius is entirely agreeing with him on that matter."  
She nodded and listened as he continued, "I have the bad feeling that Swain is rushing things a little too much. I have no idea why he would act so recklessly all of a sudden, but it's obvious that he wants this serum operational as soon as possible."

He stared at her, "Despite what he said, I don't think he wants to infiltrate the League from within. I think he is preparing for an open war. _To crush it entirely._ " He nodded to emphasize the meaning of what he just said, "I'm guessing the serum is not neurological, but something else."  
"What makes you think so?" The Crimson Reaper seemed reluctant to share this particular knowledge, "I have some informants back in Noxus. They told me that the High Command is in quite the commotion as of lately. The military is organizing. And that usually only means one thing." He wryly chuckled as a thought crossed his mind, "Plus — concerning the serum —, this is _Singed_ we're talking about. And that man's only talent is creating weapons of mass extermination."

Katarina clenched her jaws, forcing the sleepiness from her brain and recalled all the information she had on the topic at hand. Swain wanted them to test this serum immediately once Singed got here. He was even willing to let his highest ranking and undoubtedly most precious soldiers undertake the risk of harming themselves.  
_But for what…?_ She glanced up at Vladimir, who by now was chewing away on his salad again, eyes warily going through the room. _Is he really waging war against the League? All of a sudden?_

"Swain wouldn't do that," she decided. Her voice was low when she leant forward over the table, "He's ruthless, yes, but he's also a clever bastard. He wouldn't even risk losing a single lousy pawn when he could prevent that. Swain's tactics are efficient and right to the point."  
Vladimir narrowed his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, Vlad. Why would killing off his own forces do him any good in this? What for would he attack the League? He said he wants to _control_ it, to _exercise Noxus' power_ and manipulate the other city-states without them even knowing. So why destroy the only chance to do so?"

The Crimson Reaper remained silent. "I can hardly believe he would sacrifice his strongest soldiers, _his generals,_ due to a mere assumption. Even LeBlanc was questioning the developments on Singed's serum. Do you remember what she said to us?"

_Go ahead and enjoy the rest of your time._

"Swain is willing to take detours, if they bring him closer to his goals without anyone even assuming he's up to something. War would be like a punch right in the face. The League would notice before he would be able to strike first." She leant back and crossed her arms, "I don't think it's something else but this neurological shit."  
Vladimir took his time responding, "Well, I guess we both have our own assumptions." Katarina wiped her face with a hand. _This doesn't make any sense… None of it. War? Okay, fine. But why not filling us in and instead having us turned to brainless zombies?_

He shook his head, "Anyways, what were you doing in the corridor yesterday? You were practically glued to your sister's door." Katarina tensed up and her eyes became distant, "I yelled at her." He gave her a questioning gaze, "Why?"  
"Because I'm a dumbass. Now safe it, Vlad, or you'll have to eat your shit with one tooth less in your fucking mouth." A grunt, "Holy bloodshed. Just give her some time, Kat. She'll get over it eventually."

"You think so?" He nodded, "Sure. She most likely isn't mad at you, but rather the alcohol. She's your sister, she knows you wouldn't be awful to her for no reason." Katarina ground her teeth, _Why does everyone quibble over my alcohol consume? That's my own fucking problem…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Because she's not a sissy :-P LOL. Also, I think Cass would be the type to wear glasses while reading. Yea, she's fresh like that.


	8. Chapter 08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] My head spins from all the plot. Time for some fluff, don't you agree? :-P

After the quick breakfast with Vladimir, the Sinister Blade was on her way to the training room. The Crimson Reaper's presumptions didn't even sound very unlikely, but what was unclear to her was the fact that Swain had not cared to let them know about the military mobilizing in the last meeting; not even Darius or LeBlanc, and that was highly suspicious. Given, both of them probably knew about it anyway, but she herself was one of Noxus' generals. So why not fill in _her_ at least?  
She heaved a sigh and pushed the door opened, deciding to dwell on that later. To her surprise, she was not the first one here. A few meters ahead stood Ashe and Sejuani.

They were currently in each other's faces, flinging insults and accusations. The Frost Archer looked tiny in comparison to the Winter's Wrath and her impressive stature. It was quite funny. They were so caught up in their fight that they didn't even notice the assassin enter.  
So the redhead took a seat in the front row and let herself be entertained by the immature Freljordians. She couldn't pinpoint about what they were making such a fuss about, but she supposed it was not a triviality, because three of the dummies were destroyed — _utterly._ And Sejuani's flail was stuck in a fourth one. Though it didn't really matter. It was curious enough to see the usually indifferent Frost Archer all disgruntled.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Ashe stood her ground. Her head was tilted back far so she could look up at Sejuani who towered above her like a mountain. "You know exactly what I'm talking about! Don't play dumb, Sejuani!"  
The warrior glared down at her. "Don't be so full of yourself, _sister,_ " she spat, "You seem to be mixing up some things here." Ashe growled in response, clearly frustrated. She made an effort to stand on her tip-toes to appear taller, and it amused Katarina to no end. The edges of her lips curled up into a smirk and she crossed her legs, leaning back comfortably.

Things like "You're stupid!" and "You really don't get a thing, do you!?" were thrown at Sejuani in a constant staccato, and it only served to further anger the woman. The temperature in the training room had dropped significantly — Katarina bristled on the bench that stood against the wall — and she was certain that it would start to snow if the warlord got any angrier.  
It was common knowledge that the Winter's Wrath, who was also known as the "Heart of the Blizzard" in the Freljord, could manipulate the weather through her emotions. And, oh surprise, snowstorms were what followed after an outbreak of fury.

The Frost Archer went and jabbed a finger into Sejuani's chest several times, "You are the most stubborn, thick-headed and overall shameless person I have ever met!" Her voice boomed through the training room and her adversary pulled up an eyebrow. Katarina had to stifle a snicker. This was too cute. She wished she had brought popcorn.  
The Winter's Wrath huffed mockingly, standing up straight and dwarfing Ashe once more. "Why the hell are you upset about this anyway?" She spread her arms and smirked at the woman, a mean little curve of lips, "It's not like I provoked anything." _Oh, this is rich. Why didn't I come here sooner?_ the assassin mused and bit her tongue.

Ashe stood still. "It's not my fault if your man cannot keep it together! Hah, better teach him some manners — then he won't be such a disgrace to _Your Majesty!_ " Sejuani continued and curtsied in front of the queen, which let the blood rush into Ashe's cheeks in humiliation.  
That did it for Katarina. She burst out in laughter at a certain memory; she remembered seeing Tryndamere coming from the infirmary with a thick bandage covering his — apparently broken — nose the other day. Boy, he had looked _furious._ And now she knew it was because something had happened between him and Sejuani. The two Freljordians finally acknowledged her sitting there on the bench for the first time.

Ashe's face went beet red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, she had her fists clenched at her sides. The Winter's Wrath on the other hand was now standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, a pleased smile on her face. She turned to Ashe, "Heh."  
"This conversation is not over yet!" the Frost Archer replied and stormed out of the room, but Sejuani was on her heels in an instant. "Oh no, you're not running away from me! I'm not finished with you yet! Get back here, Ashe!"

They left the room and with them, the chilly weather. Katarina was mildly disappointed but shrugged it off. It was curiously soothing to know that she was not the only one having difficulties with her sister. Even though Ashe and Sejuani were not actually sisters by blood. The red-headed assassin cringed at the thought, but she couldn't help but reflect their situations.

Pushing herself up from the bench, and simultaneously pushing her disheartening thoughts aside, she walked over to the intact training dummies, stretching her muscles and beginning her training. The chill in her bones from Ashe and Sejuani's heated argument before — _Huh. Funny how that works._ — was not leaving easily, so the Du Couteau resorted back to physical training to get her body going. It helped shaking the freezing feeling off her.

The minutes quickly became hours and eventually she got company. The door opened and Katarina glanced over just in time to see Riven shooting her an unreadable look before entering. _And here I thought I could fend this off for at least a little longer…_ she mentally whined.

Katarina refrained from training, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture and awaiting for Riven to close the distance. The Exile didn't say a word, but since there was no one else in the room and she didn't show any interest in the training equipment, it was no doubt she wanted to talk to the red-headed assassin.  
_Just my luck._ Katarina made her best effort at an annoyed face, which did in fact come quite easily. "You again." She made a motion with her head in Riven's direction, "What? Looking for your little hanky-panky? I'm afraid she isn't here — which means you can leave."

Riven halted before her, immediately sighing at her common hostility. "I didn't come here for Irelia." The assassin cringed inwardly; at least they were agreeing on who they were currently talking about. That realization didn't help though. Riven returned her crimson gaze toward the woman in front of her, making her involuntarily shiver. _Get a hold!_  
"And she's not my 'hanky-panky'." The edges of Katarina's mouth dropped at the blatant lie to her face, "Hah! As if. It's obvious you two got something going on. You're _involved._ Why else would you leave for Ionia when it's not for that freak?" Ouch. Using that word might have not been the best idea because it stirred an uneasy feeling inside her chest and the face of her sister suddenly appeared before her mental eye. _Dammit._

Katarina straightened and concentrated on the situation at hand. She decided to ignore the Exile's curious face in reply to her own furrowed brown and picked up where she had left off, "Just admit it." Riven dismissed her facial slip. Katarina's endless nagging at her relationship with the Will of The Blades was getting annoying. "Don't be stupid. This is for another reason entirely."  
But the Du Couteau just smirked at her; face contorted with something she couldn't exactly figure out, "But you _are_ interested in her?" _Finally we're getting to the core of it._ Riven drew her eyebrows together and gave her a hard stare, which Katarina only picked up as a silent confession. "I didn't say that."

"But you're not denying it, either." Riven mimicked Katarina and crossed her arms over her chest; this was a pointless conversation. "Because it's nonsense." Katarina responded with letting her arms fall to her side and taking a few steps, circling Riven, "Oh hoho, I'm not sure about that. My eyes are telling me something else." The way Riven dismissed this topic as if it was the most normal thing in the world was driving her insane. Why couldn't she just spit it out already?  
After what happened in the garden, where was the point in still lying about it? The assassin ground her teeth behind her closed lips, _Just tell me, Riven… Why_ _ **her?**_ It was so hard to understand; no, it was impossible for her to understand. And the fact that Riven wouldn't be honest to her was even more frustrating. Given, they weren't exactly the closest of friends, but one would think that after that outbreak, Riven would have the decency to politely tell her that she was already taken.

It was not like it was still so completely absurd that Katarina was bothered by the idea of those two being together. And she knew Riven was not an idiot. _Then why is she still playing dumb?_ So many questions, and not a single answer.  
Riven carefully observed the assassin and waged her options before she answered, "Why do you even care, Katarina?" _Well… Shit._ Despite her best efforts at appearing nonchalantly, she stopped and her feet got rooted to the spot. Did Riven suspect something after all?

She snorted, "Tseh, I don't." The warrior shot her look that clearly said she wasn't believing a word. "…Then why are you insisting in this so much?" Katarina snapped at her in an attempt to stir the conversation into another, more comfortable direction, "Don't get cocky, Exile. You can't hide your interest in her; or anything else for that matter… From no one — we're at the _League_ after all. You remember? _'Exposing your mind'_ and all that bullshit? So you might as well admit it!" She was fairly certain she was having the upper hand in this conversation — but the Du Couteau certainly did not bargain for Riven to turn the tables.

There appeared an awfully sexy smirk on her face which sent a little shock wave straight down her abdomen and the redhead cursed her overloaded hormones. "And what if I told you that I got my eyes on someone else?"

 _God. damn. it._ There was nothing more she could think. Her mind blanked out for about half a second, imagining the possibilities this question could hold. _How can she be so hot all of a sudden? I was angry at her, wasn't I? Shit, Riven, you are a cruel tease._  
Katarina wanted to believe her words, wanted to believe that Irelia was just disport, but after that scene in the woods? She wasn't so sure. She grit her teeth; and she really shouldn't be so silly about all this. Vladimir was right after all, they had something way more important to focus on.

 _But that smirk… She isn't hitting on me, is she?_ The assassin felt her face heat up, _No. No no no, she can't be._ Riven didn't move an instant, but her amusement was painfully obvious. Katarina swallowed hard, wrecking up her brain for something to reply.  
Just her luck that the white-haired warrior saved her from probably stumbling over her words and then harshly biting her own tongue; she shook her head and reached into one of her pockets, drawing out — the dagger Katarina had jammed into the tree the other day.

Riven inspected it, circling it around in her hand, before looking back up at her. "Anyway, I wanted to give this back to you." She tossed it over to her and the Du Couteau had trouble catching it. It was a poor display of master swordplay, but she blamed the Exile for flustering her.

Katarina didn't admit it to herself, but she was a little distraught she was wearing her gloves — the blade must have been warm from Riven's pocket. _Damn it._ She felt stupid when a rather sobering realization sunk in; of course Riven would only come here to return her weapon. She quickly put it away where it belonged, glad she didn't accidentally stab herself in the thigh with it.

"So" Riven started, back to her normal no-nonsense behavior, "You have any plans for lunch?"

Katarina glanced at her, blinked once, twice, thrice, before she narrowed her eyes, " _What?_ " Riven was unwavering, "I asked if you have any plans for lunch. You know, food?" _I don't mean that, fool!_ She shook her head; this turn of events was leaving her without rhyme or reason.  
"W-Why would you ask me that?" Riven shrugged, "I figured since I was nice enough to return that to you" she made motion toward her knife, "you owe me. And I really can't think of anything better than lunch."

" _Lunch?_ " the assassin tried to clarify it for herself. "Yes." There was an awkward pause until Riven pressed her for an answer, growing annoyed, "Well?" _Eeep._ "I-I guess I have no choice…, do I?" Riven had the decency not to call her out on behaving like a four-year old about this.

Katarina shuffled around on the spot, clearly not comfortable with the situation. Still, this was an opportunity, wasn't it…? _Oh, I really shouldn't bullshit myself like this. This is just lunch, Kat. And there's still this Ionian squirt…_ She willed her profuse blush away from her cheeks and straightened, intend on regaining at least some of her dignity, "Then… Just give me a second, I need to take a shower first."

Riven nodded and then followed her out of the training room, "Alright."

 _Right. Another shower today._ Katarina gulped, _Another cold one, please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] I feel like I could have fleshed their conversation out much more, but I just wanted to get on with this and I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for much longer.
> 
> Next chapter will be some insight in Riven's past as an exile. Stay tuned! ;-)


	9. Chapter 09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Phew. I think I have to change my mind; this chapter will not revolve around Riven's past just yet. But the next will, (probably :-P) definitely. This time you get some info about the League in and of itself. Anyways, indulge yourself in the lewdness that is a certain Du Couteau's dirty mind.

By the time they got to her room, Katarina's head was spinning. They went in silence, both not feeling the need to strike up a conversation, which left the Du Couteau with the previous events to think about.

She was painfully aware of Riven decidedly walking half a step behind her, even though she probably knew where her room was. The redhead gulped — _her room._ Riven would be in her room, seeing her stuff, judging.  
She felt like pulling out her hair from nervousness. But instead she just clenched her fists; she'd be damned if she let the warrior see her frustration. Besides, she should be happy about this turn of events. It _was_ a chance for her, right?

She grit her teeth, her mind reeling. _Stupid Ionian fuck… Take this!_ she emphasized to get herself back on track. She really needed to put her focus on something that didn't fuck with her mental health so much, and hatred toward Ionians always worked rather nicely.  
It occurred to her that Riven had never been in her room before… which didn't exactly come as a surprise. The only people she'd willingly let in were her sister and Vladimir. Rarely Talon dropped by to keep her up to date on things, but that was that.

Katarina steered around a corner and nearly bumped into the ever-glowering Scorn of the Moon, the tall woman glaring down at her and brushing past the Noxians. The assassin threw her a look, seeing Riven giving her a shrug.  
They continued on and eventually reached her chambers. Katarina fumbled around with the keys and cursed under her breath until she finally managed to unlock the door. She stumbled in and turned sharply on her heel when she reached the tiny living room, shooting Riven an expectant look.

The white-haired warrior leisurely walked in and halted in front of the assassin. Katarina motioned for the small couch, trying not to blush at the fact that it was a _loveseat._ "I don't have coffee or some shit, just so you know. You can make yourself comfortable, but don't touch anything!" She bit her cheek in an attempt to stop herself from rumbling more bullshit, "I'll be quick."

Riven just nodded and fell into the cushions, and Katarina saw her driving a hand through her hair when she glanced over her shoulder. As soon as she was around the corner to her bathroom, Katarina drew a circle in her frustration and almost slammed her fist in the mirror.  
_Gods above, I need to stay calm._ She tried not to imagine Riven curiously looking around in her room. Well, there was nothing interesting to find anyway. Katarina had brought nothing personal with her to the Institute, the only exception the few worn pictures hidden in her drawer… She hoped Riven wouldn't rummage through her stuff and accidentally find those. Or the… _magazines_ under her bed. She coughed and forced the heat from her cheeks.

_Okay, Katarina… You're really fucked up; nothing's gonna happen. Just a quick shower, no big deal. She hasn't even talked to you in the past minutes and she's definitely not going to start now. Just hop in and…_

But she froze in terror as she saw the effect the simple thought of showering while Riven was in the next room was having on her body: She peeled herself out of her leather clothing, annoyed and terrified to find her nipples poking through the fabric of her bra.  
Katarina almost punched the wall in frustration. _Goddammit, she's not even ten feet away! How am I going to live through this?!_ Nonetheless, she carried on and stepped under the water. She tried not to pay too much attention to the more _sensitive_ parts of her body, but with the warm water running down her breasts, and stomach, and thighs…

She suppressed a groan and rolled her eyes. How long has she managed to keep her urges under control without tearing up? She was sure it was at least three weeks. Okay, maybe two… Definitely seven goddamn days!  
The assassin ground her teeth in shame and cursed under her breath. The hot steam inside the shower was making her head dizzy and she wondered if Riven had any dirty thoughts of her own. Maybe she imagined her stepping out any second, without a towel, dripping _wet_ and stalking right up to straddle her on the Couch, grinding— The way her brain was failing her was quite alarming.

Katarina's nostrils flared and she made an effort at washing her arms; probably the most harmless patch of skin she could touch without erupting into flames. "Stupid, sexy Riven… I'm not usually this hopeless, so why now?" she hissed.  
Much to her horror, there was knocking on the door shortly after. Katarina's eyes became dinner plates and she pursed her lips, not daring to move an inch. Rivens voice sounded distantly from the other side, "So, do you know that one Noxian restaurant down in the city?"

Katarina made a face at herself in the reflection of the glass panel. Striking up a conversation while she was under the shower, barely able to _not_ touch herself to that voice? Her grimace intensified at the irony, _Real smooth there, Riven!_  
She heaved a shaky breath and made an effort to think about her question. Some Champions sometimes went to the city to indulge themselves in the ordinary life — aka I-am-not-only-a-Champion-of-the-League-but-also-a-real-person-who-fancies-all-kinds-of-booze — and mingle with Summoners and common people alike.

She knew that especially those retarded Demacians constantly went there to propagate Demacia in all its incarnations. She frowned at a memory of the Crownguard siblings standing on a small podium, shouting Demacian standards. Yes, definitely retards.  
She herself has never been that drawn to what was going on outside of the Institute, since all the important people were usually here. So she wasn't sure whether she did or didn't know the restaurant Riven was talking about. But the information that the white-haired woman _was_ visiting the city once in a while was certainly interesting.

"I don't think so. Noxian, you say?" She couldn't see Riven nodding. "Yes. I was there a few times already. It's quite good." Katarina narrowed her eyes, feeling like teasing, "Is it expensive?" This time she heard a low chuckle and smiled like a fool, "Heh. Is it not worth your dagger?"

She turned around in the shower, washing her hair and massaging her scalp when she retorted, "Hey, you can't answer a question with a question!" Riven's voice sounded a lot nearer all of a sudden and Katarina realized that she must be standing before the door now. Quite a lot closer. The redhead's eyes flew to the pile of clothes on the toilet lid; if Riven peeked through the keyhole she could see it — as well as her _panties on top of it._  
_Oh God,_ she blushed and felt another hot wave of arousal coursing through her body. Riven continued, unaware of the Du Couteau's discomfort. "So what do you say? It's a nice place to eat."

Katarina screwed her eyes shut, head rolling back, and the voice inside her head rang out with a powerful " _I'd like to have a taste of something else purely Noxian_ ", mind circling around a mischievously grinning Exile sensually sprawling herself out and presenting herself on the couch just beyond the door.

But what could she say? Riven was quite the eye-candy; strong arms, a striking crimson gaze, her snowy tresses, and those toned abs— " _Mmmhh…_ "

"Are you okay in there?"

 _Fuck._ Katarina hadn't noticed her hands developing a mind of their own and she hastily tore them away from gliding down her body, " _Yep, I'm fine!_ " She inwardly cringed at her high-pitched tone, praying Riven didn't pick up on it.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Katarina had hastily finished her torture and quickly semi-dried her hair before wrenching on her clothes and stalking out to see Riven back on the loveseat. All casual, _not_ sensual. A blush was what followed, _Damn._ She tried to ignore the tightness inside her bra, or the uncomfortable way her panties stuck to her ass. It was a little distracting though.  
She hated thinking about it but she was pushing thirty by now, she was not a horny teenager anymore. But still, this woman was driving her nuts. Her glower was a clear signal to Riven and she stood, walking out of the door.

It was a quick but silent journey to the gates of the Institute of War, and Katarina was strangely aware of all the people surrounding them. Summoners whispered to each other upon seeing them together but at least the few other Champions ignored them. Only the Yordles — Teemo and Tristana namely — directed their fuzzy features toward them and they didn't count.  
Katarina dismissed them without sparing them another glance and Riven didn't even acknowledge their presence. They were very small after all. The assassin wondered why nobody tripped on them or accidentally kicked them while walking. She remembered "accidentally" kicking Veigar when he had tried to push her around. Hadn't worked out for him, _Hehe._

The two women left the building, the sun shining brightly outside. It was still a little fresh, but definitely bearable in the sunlight. A few Champions bustled in front of the gates; Akali and Shen stood by a stall looking at some trinkets, Twisted Fate was at a stand trying out a new deck of cards, and Lux was dragging Janna toward the city.  
The Du Couteau was a little irritated at so much merriment and for a second she imagined herself dragging Riven after her in a fit of such unbound exuberance. _Fools. Idling around for no reason, with no purpose…_ Her thoughts threatened to return to a certain conversation with the Grand General, but she quickly discarded it. Maybe it was okay to let loose once in a while, even for her.

Katarina sighed and was promptly met with a curious look from Riven at her side. She scowled harder, clenching her jaws. "What?" Riven straightened, looking away, "Nothing. I was just thinking." _About me?_ "That why you're starting at me?"  
Riven chuckled, "I wasn't staring at you. Sorry if I gave you that impression." Katarina didn't know what to respond to that, so she said nothing.

They continued on in relative silence, talking about the city and its inhabitants. When the League of Legends rose to fame a few years ago, all of Valoran had taken an interest in it. Soon enough, people started settling nearby and thus, the city fanning out around the southwestern side of Institute of War was founded. They named it Denmar, dubbed "League City", and now it was prospering as a paradise for tourists and fans. While she didn't exactly fancy the Summoners or anything League-related, sometimes the redhead was thankful for their shielding presence when it came to the Champion's privacy.

When they reached the city and passed the large gates, the two strolled through the main shopping street, squeezing through bodies and stalls and small wagons. The Sinister Blade had to admit she was quite impressed by how fast all this had popped up out of nowhere. The Summoners sure had power in this world…  
She glanced around the street, taking in the colossal signs of several inns, hearing sirens blaring in the distance, there was a clothing store here, and an arms business there. If she was honest with herself, the bustle all around her was exciting.

Positively suffering from sensory overload, it shouldn't have come as an utter surprise when she saw Sarah and Nami dallying around at a jeweler's — but it did. She quirked her eyebrow as Sarah stepped closer to the Marai girl and put a necklace made of corals and sea shells around her neck. She could hear her faint giggle and turned away.  
"So, about that restaurant…" Katarina started. Her company shrugged, "It's pretty much an insiders' tip, I've only met Talon there once before." _Talon, huh?_ "I heard a Noxian chef runs it and the staff is all Noxian too. No surprise there, to be honest…" she said more to herself and Katarina thought she saw a crooked grin tugging on her lips.

A Noxian restaurant… The assassin wondered what they would serve. Noxus was known for being the nation with the highest meat consumption in all of Valoran and every true Noxian was pretty much addicted to it. Only the fewest preferred a salad or other green stuff over a perfectly roasted steak.  
She herself was no different from all those other Noxians, but Cassiopeia was a veggie all-through. Katarina smirked to herself, _At least until her favorite dish became living mice._

"And?" she inquired. Riven hesitated, "I… wouldn't say no to some good spare ribs…" Katarina threw her a sideways glance, surprised at seeing the mighty warrior, Noxus' former poster child, _blush._ She suppressed a grin, _Heh. So you're still Noxian after all._ She had to make sure her hand didn't find Riven's because she sure felt like squeezing it. _Damn, she can be so cute._  
Riven made a point at turning her face away, and Katarina respected that. She did feel some achievement at succeeding. This completely trivial conversation about food was making her feel like she could actually talk to Riven — like she was not just a fantasy, unreachable and taunting.

Katarina was enjoying herself. And that meant something, considering she was not in the company of either her sister or Vladimir.

Riven pulled her out of her daydreaming. She slowed her pace and motioned for a small restaurant on the corner of a side street. "That'd be it." She turned around to face the assassin, "Shall we go?" Katarina, careful not to shatter her image as "Noxus' most sadistic", just shrugged and followed her in. _She's asking for my opinion, because she's genuinely interested in it._

But even if it wasn't interest and only courtesy, it still warmed Katarina's gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Yeeeaaahh, so I wrote something and this came up… More trivialities for you to put up with before we get to the actual Riven's past-part. Not even sorry!
> 
> Also, I'd like to get some more reviews on how you like the story, pace, plot, characters, etc. so far. Would you be so kind and invest two minutes of your precious time in writing a one-liner down for me, pls? :3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Feeding time! x)

The restaurant itself was rather small and unremarkable. A sign indicated its opening hours and a selection of its dishes. They opted for a quiet booth shielded from prying eyes and sat down. Since it was already a little past midday, most customers either were already gone or hadn't yet found the time to get lunch.

A waiter promptly came to their table, his uniform fitting perfectly. The way his eyes narrowed slightly, there was no doubt he immediately recognized both of them. However, the man was professional enough to not show it. His dark hair was slicked back, "Good afternoon, ladies. What can I bring you?" Against Riven's protests, Katarina ordered wine for them. If she was going out to eat with the lady of her dreams, she was going to enjoy it dammit! Plus, she remembered Riven was fairly able to hold her liquor. That brought back fond memories…

The waiter handed them the menus and left, which gave the Du Couteau a chance to look around. It was cozy; on the walls hung abstract pictures of Noxus' scenery, several fur pelts of Noxus' native wildlife, and quiet music played in the background. Katarina wasn't entirely sure, but it sounded suspiciously like one of Sona's famous compositions.  
Soon enough, they got their drinks. It was an expensive red wine from the Ironspike Mountains. Katarina noticed that Riven was a bit reluctant — which was understandable, considering where she came from. An underclass family, at least the first few years of her life until the military had taken her in and adopted her. She probably wouldn't be able to afford the wine.

Katarina glanced at her, contemplating. She herself had never paid any mind to the things she had in life. All that she had had to earn were all immaterial things; the respect of her allies, honor in battle, the very name she was known so well for.  
Other than that, as part of the wealthy Du Couteau family, the Sinister Blade had had everything. Riven was a different case. She had been rewarded with gifts, even with a luxurious house once, because she had had nothing when she first rose to fame. If Katarina remembered correctly, the lights in her house had only been rarely switched on.

She scanned the menu, all the while sneaking glances at the woman beside her. "How often do you come here anyways?" she asked, voice carefully veiled with anything else than excitement. Riven looked at her and then went back to browsing through the menu. She actually looked quite concentrated, obviously trying to recall.  
"Hm, dunno to be honest. Once or twice every two weeks I guess?" She shrugged, "Sometimes it's easier to be by yourself. The canteen is quiet noisy, I like my privacy." Katarina nodded, making a noncommittal sound. _Do you ever bring Irelia with you?_ But she almost immediately discarded that particular thought again, considering Irelia was an Ionian and she probably would rather die than give her money to a Noxian.

She looked around again, spotting a few citizens not far away from their booth openly staring at them. They were whispering. One of them pursed his lips upon seeing the Sinister Blade boring her sharp green gaze into his head and he gave his two companions a hard shove.  
_That's right, you bastards. I see you,_ Katarina thought and gave her best glare at which the men turned their attention away. Too sad she couldn't waltz over and make them regret ever laying eyes upon the unlikely pair of Noxians.

She dismissed them to the odd look of Riven, feeling a blush creeping up her neck. Katarina quickly snatched her glass and knocked down a large gulp, "Order whatever you want. It's my treat after all." She hoped it would divert the woman's attention to something else and was glad it worked. Riven smirked, "Don't pretend you're being generous. You just don't have a choice." _Hard to believe she's_ _ **forcing**_ _me to eat with her._

The assassin allowed herself a cocky remark, "Don't be ridiculous. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here." The words popped out of her mouth before she could actually think about them twice, and both Riven and she were shocked at them. She looked away and took another large gulp of wine. Riven eyed her through her white bangs, red eyes gleaming, "You sure about that? I could order something expensive, remember?"  
Katarina looked up and recalled their earlier banter in her rooms, "Heh. Right, you're a shameless freeloader." It was refreshing to be so agreeable with the other woman; despite all the stupid things she said. The red-headed assassin decided she could get used to it.

Riven leant back, suddenly appearing a lot more at ease, "Ouch, you hurt my feelings." Katarina chuckled and took another sip, "I heard that's what I'm good at… besides inflicting bodily harm." She drove a hand through her hair and brushed through the tiny knots, hand coming back slightly wet. Riven laughed at that and it sparked something in Katarina's chest.  
She shook her head and held her arm in mock hurt, "Yea, I can relate." The redhead scoffed, "Don't be such a sissy. You've had worse." The white-haired woman just nodded, "But you're still quite a beast on the battlefield."

"Not only on the battlefield."

_Oh gosh._

There it was again; she was hopeless when it came to these things. That _ridiculous_ sentence came out before she could hold her tongue and now Riven was staring up at her through crimson eyes. Katarina blushed furiously, her eye twitched, and she thought her stomach was cramping up. _**Godforsaken,**_ _what the hell am I doing?!_  
There was a moment of silence between them but mercifully, Riven had the sense to turn her attention away yet again. She took a sip for obvious reasons of distracting from — _this._ "Some say so." The assassin dared to look at her, not believing her rather modest comment to her earlier statement.

It wasn't until the waiter returned to their table and asked for their orders that the two women remembered they should probably look into the menus instead of attempting at awful small talk. Riven quickly decided on the spare ribs while Katarina went for the beefsteak in wine sauce. She tried not to pay too much attention to all the wine she was consuming today.  
_Why the hell do you have to behave like a flirtatious bastard? Seriously, woman, get your shit together!_ she scolded herself mentally, idly wondering how Cassiopeia always managed to woo men and women alike with seemingly no effort. _Maybe I should take classes… Ugh._

But, knowing Cassiopeia, her sister would probably just revel in her suffering. Especially after their recent… encounter. _But none of that. I'm here having lunch with Riven, I shouldn't be thinking about that now._ Cass wouldn't want her to be sad if she knew she had a date with the Exile right now. _A date, huh?_  
Her eyes flew once more to the woman beside her. Despite the fact that she apparently was being forced to have lunch with the Exile, the atmosphere felt unexpectedly light. They were enjoying a meal together and just talking.

She clicked her tongue and decided not to dwell on deep stuff like that right now. Also, the alcohol may or may not have gotten a little effect on her. Or maybe she was just blushing like a damn teenager again because Riven was glancing at her all the time.  
_No, wait. She's… looking at my steak?_ Katarina blinked before she realized Riven was indeed eyeing her steak. Not knowing on how to react to that… astonishing discovery, the Du Couteau just shoved another piece of meat into her mouth.

But Riven kept looking over.

She felt a smirk tugging on the edges of her lips, "Heh. Wished you'd chosen the steak instead? Y'know, you can have a bite if you want." The white-haired warrior raised her eyebrows, a slight pink hue covering her dusty cheeks.  
"Uh, it's alright. I'm-I'm fine, thanks." Katarina just held the fork between them, a succulent piece of perfectly cooked steak on its prongs. Riven made an apologetic face, "Really, it's ok."

"Yes, but _I_ paid. So I get to say if you eat the steak or the spare ribs. And right now, I want you to eat the steak." Riven quirked an eyebrow. "C'mon, don't be like that! One for mommy…" Katarina made a motion as if she was playing with a paper airplane, moving the fork to Riven's face.  
The warrior was making a pained face, although… _Yes, I see that smile on your face, Riven. Don't even try to hide it._ She was inebriated, she was fooling around, but when Riven eventually grabbed her wrist and shoved the piece into her mouth, she tensed.

She hadn't actually expected the woman to go along with her annoying game and a few drips of meat juice ended up smeared on the corner of Riven's mouth. They locked gazes, Riven's pink tongue darting out to lick away the stray flavor, and Katarina involuntary shuddered at the motion.

 _Holy shit… Why is so warm all of a sudden?_ The Exile turned away, bashful, and it was almost too cute. A grin all but exploded on the Du Couteau's face, "I wonder if you're gonna follow me home like a stray puppy if I keep feeding you?"

"Maybe I will."

Ok, now _that_ was forward. Katarina felt her ears go hot and if she hadn't been so tipsy already, she might have cared. But, _Oh well._ She couldn't decipher if Riven was also blushing or if it was just the alcohol. Whatever it was, it brought a rosy color to the Exile's cheeks and Katarina found her incredibly attractive right now. Not that she didn't find her attractive usually, but yea.  
The fact that Riven was also getting bolder due to the alcohol was undeniably reassuring and Katarina didn't feel like a complete dork anymore. And the _flirting_ was perhaps the most interesting part about it.

 _Showing interest much?_ her mind reeled in euphoria. If this kept going so wonderfully right, she might even hope for Riven to invite her back someday. She guessed it counted as a success when she was offered a piece of Riven's meal. With a chuckle and a warm feeling in her gut that had nothing to do with the wine Katarina indulged herself.

Soon after, the waiter came back and brought them their dessert — an expensive, weird-looking mountain of chocolate mousse. Of course, with a cherry on top. Katarina and Riven eyed the monstrosities in front of them curiously before digging in.  
The assassin rolled her eyes from the heavily taste, " _Gods,_ why haven't you brought me here sooner? This is incredible…" Riven went to say something, only for her words to get stuck in her throat, "I always thought that—"

Katarina looked up just in time to see Riven's eyes glued to… her décolleté. She froze for a second and Riven noticed, staring really weird at her. The white-haired woman all but jerked up — just tensed, really — and started gesturing very much randomly.  
"You, uh… There-There was… a drop of water f-from your hair." Now that she said it, the Du Couteau actually felt something trickling down her skin and she looked down and wiped a hand over it. Her face heated up, but she saw Riven's doing the exact same thing, so she guessed it was okay. "Stupid hair…" she mumbled, probably feeling as embarrassed as Riven looked.

With that, she brushed it behind her ear, viciously wringing the still slightly damp ends of her red tresses to prevent something so awkward from happening again. They both focused on their meals and didn't even try to talk again for the next ten minutes.

Which left Katarina to think about this moment again, and again, and yet again; just how it was with embarrassing moments. _Come on, you asshole! She didn't look at your boobs, don't be such a retard! She just… glanced at the spot above them._ Katarina didn't praise herself for her good looks, but she knew she was not exactly ugly.  
And even her sister, the embodiment of beauty, if former, had once told her in passing that she had a nice cleavage and should put in on display more often. _Sooo… Does that mean she likes it?_ The redhead risked a glance at the Exile… who was poking around in her dessert, cheeks still flushed.

Her fist wandered to her face and she wiped her grin away, celebrating the fact that yes, Riven did indeed find her cleavage attractive. That was something. It occurred to her that Katarina had more often than not been annoyed at people staring at her tits — which usually resulted in somebody unexpectedly missing various body parts — but in this case… Well, she didn't really mind.

 

* * *

 

They were on their way back to the Institute when the sun began setting. A deep orange light flooded the mostly empty streets and painted the treetops of the forest in a million kinds of different colors. It was very pretty to look at.  
Katarina had her hands in her pockets and walked alongside Riven who was excitedly talking about that one night out with the guys from the Crimson Elite where everyone got utterly wasted and they ended up in the sewers by the docks.

"Hah. You should have seen Rim's face… Priceless," she laughed and shook her head, the memories she was talking about undoubtedly fond ones. Katarina bit her lip, _It's a shame I didn't get to spend more time with them… or with you._  
Riven sobered pretty quickly, her look forlorn. "Sometimes I wish they were still here." The redhead could see the fidgeting but chose not to comment on it. Eventually, the Exile voiced her thoughts, "Have you heard from any of them?"

 _Oh, Riven…_ She had obviously tried to make it sound casual, but Katarina — even if a little tipsy still — was no fool. She saw the subliminal sadness crossing her face for a split second. She turned her head to the trees, marveling at their brightness in the winter's evening sun.  
"I've heard from Cade. He's doing fine, just recently got promoted to Captain." Riven's face light up, "Really? Wow, never would've guessed. He's always overshot the mark, if I remember correctly." She chuckled, "That thick-headed buffoon. It's nice to hear he's well."

"Hmm," Katarina agreed. _Though it's nicer bonding with you over these things…_ She stole a glance at the woman beside her, _You still haven't forgotten us, have you?_ No, not with the way her eyes were shining when she heard the good news from Noxus. Not with the way she still spoke with pride in her voice when she told stories of the times Katarina hadn't been with the company.

But no matter how pleasantly they were sharing old memories with each other, all of this kept reminding Katarina of one simple fact: Riven had left Noxus behind.

 _I… I need to know why. Why things happened the way they did._ So the assassin steeled her resolve and bit back the turmoil going on in her mind and heart. "Riven?"  
The Exile turned to her, sensing something wasn't right, "What is it?" It took her some more resolve but she decided she was ready to hear the answer she craved so much for. So Katarina met her gaze and asked the question that had been bothering her since the first day Riven had set foot into the Institute of War.

"Why did you leave?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Things are slowly (very slowly) wrapping up between Sinister Blade and Exile. Sorry for the late update, I hope you're happy with chapter 10 of this rollercoaster ride of feels!
> 
> Also, I changed the general information of TWoN — the genres should now be more accurate and the important characters are named. Thanks for pointing that out to some of my trusty reviewers and followers! You are awesome! Comments on anything are always appreciated, so don't be shy ;-)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Ah yes, the procrastination queen strikes again…
> 
> Hello folks — beloved reviewers and followers, as well as old-seasoned AO3-veterans and random internet visitors! I know it's hard to believe there is actually an update on TWoN because my chronic laziness is astonishing even to myself (and I've been putting up with this rude jackass for more than twenty years now ugh).
> 
> But there it is! So enjoy reading :-)

Riven glanced at her, uneasiness obvious in her eyes. Katarina had a vague notion of what the Exile might think about her question. She decided to take the initiative, "I mean, don't kid yourself; you were one of the best soldiers Noxus had ever had. You were a hero, an idol to the people. Why would you throw all that away?"

Riven sighed, her hand rubbing her neck tiredly. She took her time answering, but the redhead didn't blame her. It was a long story, she knew that, so she gave Riven the time she needed to find a good start for where to begin.

"I never wanted to leave. It never once occurred to me that I would willingly depart from Noxus and not return for a prolonged time. But I guess… things changed. During the war, during the time you're deployed in a foreign country, you learn a few things about yourself."  
She looked down to the street and kicked a stone somberly but forcefully, "I learned that I couldn't stand for what Noxus had become anymore." There was something in her eyes at that moment, but Katarina chose not to comment on it. "I was _sixteen_ years old back then. I had other things to worry about than the corruption of the place I had called _home_ all my life."

Riven looked up and waved a hand for emphasis, "I had just been put in charge of Fury Company, I had a lot to prove. I had some _growing to do._ " The redhead scrutinized her from the side, eyes narrowing as she tried to follow Riven's thoughts. _A lot to prove? Are you kidding? You had already proven yourself, dumbass._ Her eyes wandered to Riven's broken sword, _Why the hell do you think did they give you this damned thing for, huh?_

"I wasn't prepared for any of this." Riven sighed, "And after what happened, I had a lot to work through for myself. I didn't… didn't want to charge in headfirst without knowing the full extend of what's been kept hidden from me. _Again._ " Katarina refrained from harrumphing.  
The warrior seemed lost, the severance of the topic clearly carving deep lines of frustration into her face. It was surprising actually so have her opening up so easily about it. Maybe she just needed to tell someone, _To talk it out._ Riven went unheeded to the redhead's musings, her voice uncharacteristically low, "I wish I could have done something…"

But Katarina felt anger rising in her chest at this. She tried to stay calm and channeled her fury into two tight fists at her sides, "Then why didn't you come back? It's been _seven_ years, Riven. Seven goddamned years, you had all the time in the world!"  
Riven's jaw clenched and her gaze became hooded. She turned her face to the side, an obvious sign of her discomfort. She spoke through gritted teeth, "I _couldn't do_ anything back then."

The assassin scoffed, "Stop that bullshit. You _could_ have done something. You could have actually done something to improve this corrupt shit pile! But instead, you fled." She took a bold step forward, bringing her face close to Riven's and glared up at her, "You fled to anywhere and nowhere just so you didn't have to deal with it. You know I'm right."

Riven looked at her with an expression in her eyes that she couldn't quite decipher. It looked like astonishment — because she told her the way it was? — and maybe the bitterness of betrayal? _Because you didn't want to hear it being said to your face. Couldn't admit it to yourself, huh?_  
Katarina couldn't help but grin, cruelly. As much as Riven was the epitome of strength to her, sometimes she failed just as hard as every other human on Runeterra. It sobered the image she had of the tough warrior a little; but it also made her more… _approachable._

"There is no strength in denying that," she said.

Riven was silent for a long time after that. They resumed walking after Katarina had all but dashed away from her person after that accusation and there was a cold distance between them. Only when they reached the edge of the city did Riven speak up.  
Apparently, she was not done with the topic. Katarina idly wondered if she would ever be until everything was set right again. "I'm still young, aren't I? Hell, you're still young too! I can still do something!" The fierce Du Couteau turned to her, a snarl on her lips, "Then stop whining about it and _do something already!_ "

She jabbed a finger in Riven's chest, "You say you want to change Noxus for the better, but where are your efforts? You've been running from the cold, hard truth for seven years and not _once_ did you think about coming back and _fighting_ for what you believe! All this— _talk,_ but in the end all you do is stand on the sidelines. Just like in Ionia!"

That did it; the Exile flared. She grabbed Katarina's collar in a crushing grip and dragged her toward herself roughly, gazes boring into one another. Suddenly she was angry, as if that one word had brought out an ugly side of Riven Katarina had never seen before. "Don't lecture me! You know nothing of what happened in Ionia. You weren't there to see the war, instead you were sitting in your fancy _palace_ in Noxus stuffing your face." That induced a twitch in Katarina's brow.  
Riven nearly became violent and the ferocity glinted in crimson eyes, "You're just the same as me, Katarina! What did _you_ do when General Du Couteau was murdered on Swain's orders? What did _you_ do to justify _your_ whining?!" There was a horrible pang of bitterness in the assassin's chest at the accusation and Katarina had almost, _almost_ sliced her to shreds for the audacity to bring up her father's name.

But Riven didn't want to stop there, didn't want to stop saying all the things that were on her mind, voicing the thoughts never really leaving her. Yet, she felt deeply affronted by the Du Couteau's words. Her anger was nearly palpable as she grit her teeth and growled out, "Why am I even telling you this? It's not like I owe you an explanation anyway."

She let go of Katarina's collar and pushed her away, sending one last look of pure venom her way, and left without another word. The assassin was boiling herself, glancing around to make sure no one saw her getting stood up like this. Her "relationship" with the Exile might not have been intact since, well ever, but she was not going to risk losing her reputation at such displays.

Katarina straightened her leather jacket and stalked into the evening, eager to punch someone. Her quiet snarls were the only thing piercing the sudden silence.

 

* * *

 

The evening found her in Gragas' bar in the Institute, sitting on a table with Rengar, Jax, and Sarah Fortune. All of them hid behind a fan of cards, suspiciously eyeing the other participants in their intense game of Caltrops.

The Du Couteau narrowed her eyes at the Pridestalker, who appeared to be grinning into his paw. She concluded he must be bluffing about his hand. Her eyes wandered to Jax, face ever obscured by his blasted mask, who sat opposite of her. Last but not least was Sarah Fortune to her right. The woman had a drunken smile on her face, her hat not quite sitting straight on her head anymore, and fanned herself with the cards in her hand.

Katarina presented the two pairs in her possession with a straight face, which fell immediately when Rengar slammed down his fist on the table, showing three pairs, "What the fuck?" The damned furball cackled with a deep voice, crossing his arms over his chest. Katarina glared at him, "That's the fucking third time in a row you've got a triple! Are you kidding me, Rengar?!" Fortune grunted and threw her cards into the round, probably too inebriated to debate about whether or not the Pridestalker was playing fair.

The Du Couteau drew a knife at Rengar's annoying antics of grooming and stepped on the table, holding the cruel dagger to his neck. His eyes widened, "Put that thing away, woman!" Katarina growled, " _Nu-uh!_ "  
With a gruff laugh, Jax slammed down his cards on the table — _four pairs._ Katarina lost it. " _What the hell, you fucking cheater!_ " she shrieked and pointed her knife at him instead of Rengar, the latter releasing a relieved breath. "I'll gut you too!"

Rengar, clever feline that he was, immediately went invisible and made his stealthy escape out of the bar. Jax was trying to get the furious redhead off his neck and Sarah casually knocked back a Red Buff, shuddering at the sweet taste.  
There was a brief struggle between Katarina, Jax, and the knife, with the latter eventually ending up stuck in the ceiling. Gragas shot them all hateful glares which they ignored while the Sinister Blade mourned her knife, the edge probably completely ruined.

She grunted and sat back down, snatching a Blue Buff from the middle of the table and pouring it into another Red Buff. The color turned purple and the drink — now called a Baron — started bubbling and fizzing before she tossed it down, the taste a combination of sweet and sour. With a shake of her head, Katarina left the stage, "I'm leaving."  
Jax called after her, "Du Couteau, I won this round! Where's my money?" She didn't even turn around, only threw a glower over her shoulder. "Winner takes all, yea? So you get the bill, and the rag to clean up this mess," she indicated at the now passed-out Sarah and then at her dagger in the ceiling, "By the way, my knife's worth more than you can possibly spend in a lifetime. It's yours."

There was a string of profanities coming from behind the Grandmaster at Arms' mask, but Katarina had already sauntered out of the bar and into the many hallways of the Institute. She might have been able to put up with this disaster of a nice evening, but she wasn't even remotely lubricated. And that although she had wanted to drown her anger at a certain warrior in a drunken stupor. _Can't have a little fun without a little drink after all._

The Sinister Blade evaded a bunch of Summoners who stared at her wide-eyed — no surprise here — and rounded another corner when she spotted her most dreaded person across from her. With a handsome smile exposing pearly white teeth, Garen the Might of Demacia looked down at her. "Well, hello there."  
He purposefully blocked her way, rolling his beefy shoulders and flexing his muscles, "What brings you to the Demacian wing, Katarina? It's not often that I see you here. Were you looking for someone special?"

 _Yes, a trash can of your sort to dump all of my knives in._ She refrained from glowering at him — _Already tried, already failed,_ her mind drawled. "Actually, yes. I was looking for your little sister. She asked me to show her some knife play." There was an awkward pause before Garen, the epitome of Demacian standards, went pale as a ghost.  
"W-What do you mean with… knife play?" _Heh._ Katarina smiled, big and wide and goofy, "That's what _she_ said." She slapped him on the chest and passed him by without a look backward. Garen spluttered, and it was music in Katarina's ears.

She sped out of the hallway, desperate to get away from him. "Such a douchebag. I hope he bumps his toes somewhere…" But, something else caught her attention. As soon as she had turned, she heard whispers coming from the other side of a not entirely closed door, with one word in particular making her perk up as if by default — " _Marcus._ "  
Master assassin instincts kicking in, Katarina pressed herself against the wall and tried to listen in. She peeked through the door crack and caught a glimpse of four Summoners standing close in a mostly dark room. There was a dim light source somewhere behind them, but it was too dark to see their faces and identify them.

"…with the Du Couteaus is still at risk." _What the hell?_ "If they die, chaos will follow. We need to act _now!_ " Her thoughts suddenly raced. _If we_ _ **die?**_ _What in the devil's name are they on about? Who would even—_ "Swain is a problem that needs to be removed!"  
Katarina's eyes went the size of dinner plates, _Fucking hell?!_ Again, a questionable image of her proud Noxian nation behind their current Grand General appeared before her inner eye. It left a pit in her stomach and she knew one thing: She needed to find out who these Summoners were.

Fortunately, stalking prey was one of her specialties. Katarina, ever knowing how to lure someone into a defenseless position, nudged the door with her boot and smiled at the satisfying screech it made. The Summoners immediately ceased whispering among themselves and all turned their attention to the door.  
They made some ominous hand signs to each other and quickly shuffled out of the tiny room. Checking the hall ways in all possible directions, they dispersed and didn't speak one word anymore. Katarina, having taken a seat up on the joists under the ceiling, spotted the tall Summoner who had talked about Marcus Du Couteau a few minutes prior.

He went fast, his violet robes flying after him in his haste. Katarina stuck to the beams above, moving like a cat on light soles. He took a random path through the Institute, possibly guessing he was being followed. However, Katarina would make sure he didn't catch sight of her.  
After nearly ten minutes of pointless walking and taking the steps three times, he arrived at what was presumably his chamber — an unsuspicious looking door in the Noxian corridor, which was not so unsuspicious. _A Noxian Summoner?_

She made a face; a Noxian Summoner talking about her father, the Du Couteaus being in danger, and Swain being a problem that needed removal was incredibly juicy. She clicked her tongue, silently asking herself who this man was.  
The man eyed the corridors and then unlocked his door, quietly and quickly slipping in. He didn't even bother turning the lights on before he locked the door again, sighing in relief when he turned around—

—only to stare wide-eyed into the face of none other than Katarina Du Couteau, Sinister Blade of Noxus. She grinned and he backed away as far as he could get, but the door blocked his way. With a quick slash, the redhead dissected the outermost layer of his robes, the tattered pieces floating to the ground at his feet.  
He was breathing quickly, "K-Katarina…" The assassin examined his face, now free of the cowl. He was a senior Summoner, deep furrows carved into his skin and unkempt stubble making its way to the surface of his skin. All in all, the looked stressed, like he could have been handsomer but hadn't had the time nor energy to take care of himself.

Katarina advanced, knife still drawn, and he shrunk back even more. She leant in close, "I want to know everything you and your friends were whispering about earlier."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Confession Time: I suck at emotional scenes. No really, I'm just very bad at conveying these things. …At least I tried. x) Anyhow, I think my shortcut of this argument is justified in that this topic is just really, really delicate for Riven. She needs a lot of time to open up to anyone about it, even though maybe Katarina could be the closest to someone who could understand.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Let's delve a little deeper into the mystery Katarina began to uncover last chapter ;-)

The man stared, terrified, at the assassin in his face, her dagger grazing his cheek and drawing the tiniest amount of blood. There was a dangerous, a very dangerous glow in her eyes, and she was getting impatient, " _Well?_ "

He swallowed hard, "I-I…", and his throat seized up in his utter terror. Katarina punctured his temple with the tip of her knife, "Look, if you want to live you better start spitting your secrets! I'm not going to ask nicely again!" The Summoner whimpered and held up his shaking hands in a defensive gesture, "I'll tell you, I'll tell you! B-But not here."  
The Du Couteau quirked an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. "The walls have ears. It's not safe here. W-We'll talk… _somewhere private._ " What followed was a staring contest, green boring into brown eyes and Katarina swore she could _smell_ his fear.

She shoved her face closer, "I don't recall you being in the position to make demands." Interestingly, he gathered his wits, "You may threaten to kill all my family and friends tonight, Katarina, but I'm not going to tell you anything while within these walls."  
Huh. That gave her pause. Apparently, the topic was so delicate he was willing to sacrifice not only his own life, but also his loved ones to protect the secret he and his co-conspirators were aware of. _Can't exactly disagree. This must involve all of Noxus, the state and ringleaders._

She took a moment to contemplate her options: She could kill him. That way she would never find out about what those Summoners were talking about, clearly playing into Swain's hands. Also, if she didn't let him live she would eliminate the possibility of getting accused for threatening one of the Summoners of the Institute of War in case he wasn't trustworthy, because, _Well who the fuck could pin me down for murdering him if no one saw?_  
On the other hand… She could also find out about the mystery these four meatheads were speaking of and possibly — her heart skipped a tiny little beat at the thought — resolve the disappearance of Marcus Du Couteau. Because he was an important factor in their discussion, otherwise they wouldn't have bothered mentioning a _dead_ man. She gritted her teeth and bristled on the inside.

Reluctantly, and considerate of conveying her mistrust to this unknown person, Katarina retrieved her knife from his head and let go of his collar, eyeing him from head to toe, "Give me something I can work with."  
He looked entirely relieved, almost at ease again. Clearing his throat, but refraining from touching the wound to his head, he whispered, "My name is Balaq. Me and my friends are Noxian Summoners. We have close ties to some of the higher ranking officers in High Command and most of them were supporters of Marcus Du Couteau back when…" He trailed off, not daring to find out if she was going to skin him alive mentioning Marcus' presumed death.

"We believe there was more to his disappearance than it seemed and that Swain had a hand in it." Katarina almost snorted. Did these imbeciles honestly think she hadn't had suspicions of her own? Did they honestly think she hadn't been trying to investigate the matter? _Fools._  
He continued, unaware of her disregarding sneers, "And it might not be over yet. Not until the entire Du Couteau family is… _dealt with._ " The assassin watched him, his face, the sweat beading on his forehead, and the way he wrenched his fingers. She doubted he was lying to her, seeing how utterly terrified he was for dear life.

She crossed her arms, "You have to do better than that," and his eyes darted from her face to her knife. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, "Katarina, I really can't talk freely about this in here. Swain has means, he—"  
"Alright, moron. Then we'll do this your way." All he saw was the steel back of her gauntlet colliding with his head before his vision went dark and he fell to the ground unceremoniously. The redhead huffed in annoyance as he picked him up, "You better hope you got good news for me."

 

* * *

 

It took a while, but by a little past midnight she had managed to drag his limp body all the way down into the Dungeons. Renekton — the petition to remove him from competing had failed — sat in his cell and observed the cursing woman heaving the man across the hallway.

"You sure you don't got issues, Kat? I'm sure there's a better place for you to storage your playthings in than down here." He picked his ear in boredom. "Shut your yap, Renekton. I'm not in the mood to entertain you." She huffed with the effort, "And just because you're buddies with Cass doesn't automatically mean you have earned a place in my heart."  
He very nearly guffawed, "Relax, I'm just messing with you. What are you doing with him anyways?" Katarina glared, " _Storing him._ " The Butcher of the Sands didn't try prying for more information. Obviously, she wasn't going to tell him. "Just make sure Nocturne doesn't find him in his sleep. The poor guy wouldn't make it through the night…"

_You don't need to remind me._ "Whatever. Since you got nothing better to do, keep an eye on him for me, would you?" It wasn't meant as a question, just a reminder that he was stuck in this muddy place for a while to come, so he might as well make himself useful and watch the door to the cell she had just put him in.

Renekton however, just shrugged, "Does it earn me a place in your heart?" Being a reptile must be doing something to your genes. _He's just as snarky as Cass._

 

* * *

 

By the time the clock turned three a.m., Katarina found herself yawning and breaking into Vladimir's chamber. He was sleeping — quite soundly to be exact — and completely unaware of her presence, of course. Katarina closed the door behind her and locked it; having made sure not to break the lock in her process of inviting herself in.  
She stood in front of Vladimir's bed with her fists on her hips and a scowl on her face, staring down at the man lying there as if he was rigid as a statue, his arms crossed over his chest. _It_ _ **does**_ _remind me a little of those fantasy creatures… What are they called again? Vampires?_ She shook her head and started banging her foot against the bed frame, the steel toes on her boots making a nice loud clanking sound.

It didn't take long for the Crimson Reaper to come awake and snap straight into a sitting position with his eyes wide like saucers. " _What in the name of blood type B negative!_ " he shrieked and turned toward Katarina, face immediately falling into a deep frown.  
"For the love of— _What the hell are you doing here at three in the morning?!_ " The assassin remained unimpressed; his hair stuck out at odd angles. "Get up and make me some coffee, I have news."

With a twitching right eye and his teeth exposed in a mean snarl, Vladimir got up and quickly donned a fashionable nightgown, striding into the small kitchen attached to his living room. The Institute was equipped with a great dining hall available to every Champion and Summoner from dawn till dusk but in case someone wanted a midnight snack or simply liked to prepare their own food, they all had a small kitchen integrated in their living quarters.  
It was usually only used by the likes of Yorick or Amumu — for obvious reasons. Katarina paused, _Does the boy even know how to use a microwave?_ She decided not to dwell on it; if Amumu had gotten himself on fire somehow she probably would have heard about it.

Soon enough, the potent aroma of black coffee floated through Vladimir's chamber and he returned to where Katarina had taken a seat in the living room area with two mugs full of steaming hot liquid. He sat down across from her, "Well… This had _better_ be good."  
She grimaced, "Have I ever shook you out of your beauty sleep without good reason?" He glared back, "Do you want me to recount the multiple times you did exactly that?" The Du Couteau rolled her eyes, "Please spare me."

She took a sip before leaning forward, "Anyways, I met someone today." Vladimir reclined, cradling his coffee, "Is it someone who knows the answer to the universe?" For a split second, Katarina considered deadpanning with a quick "42" but the idea left her swiftly again.  
"Better than that. I met a Summoner who might know what happens in Noxus right now." Vladimir quirked an eyebrow, "Is that so…?" She smirked. "Him and his friends have a big, juicy package of information for me. I have him locked up in the Dungeons, Renekton is keeping an eye on him for me."

"Renekton? Doing you a favor? Really," he scoffed but then got serious. "What's the deal with this Summoner though? Is he trustworthy?" Katarina's eyes sparkled, "He will be once I'm through with him. I can be _very_ convincing."  
"Yes, I can testify," Vladimir retorted dryly. "I overheard him conspiring with three other Summoners, talking about _Marcus Du Couteau._ " She punctuated the last three words to the desired effect — Vladimir nearly choked to death on his coffee.

" _Sweet lord of blood!_ " She simply nodded as he stared at her. He let it sink in for a moment, "Do you think they might have been informed? Maybe even participated in whatever had transpired to him?" Katarina's gaze became hooded and she crossed her arms before her chest, "Whether they were involved or not, they know _something._ And I'm gonna find out what exactly."  
With that and a burning determination in her heart, the Du Couteau stood and tapped Vladimir on the shoulder while passing him, "Be at the ready, I'll talk to him in the morning." Vladimir crossed his arms and scowled, "You mean after you catch a full night's worth of sleep?" The stab was obvious, but Katarina wouldn't be a Du Couteau if something like that would induce more than an annoyed eye-roll from her. She waved dismissingly, "Yea, yea. Whatever you say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Ah… hah hah… Told you it's still alive, didn't I? :'D I'm working on some issues with the next few chapters and I haven't figured out yet how I'm going to elegantly solve them. For now, take this rather small new chapter of TWoN.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] More content, how precious! :D

After having caught a few precious hours of much needed sleep, the Sinister Blade was on her way to her brother’s room. When Talon let her in, he had already donned his usual coat, being the early riser that he was. He looked surprised to see her and turned, but waited for her to initiate conversation. Katarina’s intense gaze was enough for him to figure out that this was about business, “I need your _briefcase._ ”

He examined her for a second, then vanished in his closet without another word and returned with a medium-sized black briefcase. It was an old, worn thing. Talon glanced at his sister, glowing orbs sharp like hawks eyes. He laid the item down on the table in the living room area and stood straight, “What do you need it for?”  
Katarina opened it and surveyed its contents, pleased and a little amused that everything was neat and tidy; despite the state the briefcase itself was obviously in. _He’s such a prude, even with his toys._ Satisfied, she clicked the briefcase closed again and ominously grinned at her step-brother, “Practice.” He rolled his eyes and waved her off, “Bring it back tonight.”

Once out of Talon’s room, Katarina went straight to pick up Vladimir. She found the Crimson Reaper sitting at his table, sipping a glass of some unidentifiable red liquid. He was intently staring at her as she entered, legs crossed as he waited for her to approach.  
They looked at each other for a moment, “Got the briefcase, let’s go.” Vladimir swallowed the last droplets and carefully placed the glass with the high stem onto the table. They left at once, not making eye contact with anyone and briskly walking the halls of the Institute until they reached the massive stone doors leading down into the Dungeons.

Renekton smirked when he saw them both enter and growled out a greeting, “Mornin’.” Katarina stopped before the bars to his cell, “Is he still where he’s supposed to be?” But the Butcher of the Sands didn’t wait for the nasty glares from the assassin and instead turned around again, languidly curling in on himself to keep snoring.  
Katarina shot him a dirty look, but Vladimir grabbed her by the hem of her leather jacket and pulled her with him. She snarled, _Useless reptile._ They reached the door and turned to each other before entering.

“Let me do the talking, you’re just there to physically impress.” She said it with such utter confidence that Vladimir could only give her _a look._ “Are you kidding?” She stared at him as he gestured to himself, “Do I look like someone who can physically impress? I’m not Garen” — Katarina shuddered at the reference — “in case you didn’t notice. I’m good at verbally humiliating people or sucking them dry if that’s what you want, but not at throwing a punch at someone!”

“Stop whining Vlad, just go along with it.” She left him fuming and roughly pushed the door opened, revealing a dirtied man cowering on the far wall of the cell with a blindfold over his eyes. His hands were bound behind his back and he jerked up when he heard them enter, “…Who’s there?”  
“Three guesses, idiot.” The feminine voice alerted him to Katarina Du Couteau’s presence, although the venomous ring to it could have fitted many Champions. He exhaled in relief nonetheless. Balaq patiently waited for them to enter the room and close the massive iron door behind them, the latch heavily falling into the lock. He flinched just a little.

Vladimir positioned himself at the far end of the room, directly behind the door, and crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to appear as mighty as possible. Katarina prowled around the man in slow strides, eyeing his pathetic form up as if she was going to devour him in one bloody piece. Eventually, she reached for the blindfold and took it off.  
The Summoner blinked, his eyes trying to adjust to the dim light in the cell. When he spotted the Crimson Reaper standing at attention with his eyes glowing in pale white, he nervously licked his lips.

Katarina came to a stop before him. “I believe you have already met Vladimir,” she gestured to her partner in crime, “He’ll give us a hand with this.” She crouched down and put the briefcase down in-between them, taking her time opening it and inspecting the items it contained. The way his eyes bulged was noticeable and it pleased the assassin greatly.  
There was a remarkable multitude of cruel instruments — _clearly_ used for torture. Several knifes, pinches, and horrid-looking screws used for unspeakable purposes. Talon had his toys neatly sorted for usage and all of them were well looked after.

Katarina looked up as she traced a clean knife with a jagged spine and shoved her face close to Balaq’s, emerald eyes glinting dangerously in the dark, “ _Now we talk._ ”

The man swallowed roughly, “Where do I start…?” His gaze flickered to the knife in question for a second as he sorted out his thoughts before looking up again, “My name is Balaq and I am a senior Summoner for Noxus in the Institute of War. I was a Lieutenant in the Noxian army. At the time, Boram Darkwill was still in charge as Grand General of the Noxian Empire, preparing his son to step up in his place to rule. I was promoted as an assistant to High Command as a sign of my merit shortly before his death.”

He cautiously observed the reactions from the two Champions, but their faces remained carefully blank. He swallowed with a dry throat, “I… was also involved in the process of electing a new Grand General after his assassination.” Katarina’s jaw clenched but the dark shadows in the cell hid it from Balaq’s view.  
“How did a Lieutenant become an assistant to the direct superiors of High Command? They usually stay in the military instead of playing in politics,” she asked.

Balaq nodded a few times, recalling, “While I was serving, it turned out I wasn’t any good on the frontlines. But I had certain strategical expertise and my company valued my input in the war room as I helped bring two minor campaigns on the western border to an end. Apparently, someone nominated me for a different position. That’s how I ended up at High Command in the end.”

When Katarina didn’t respond, he continued, “Later, I found out that it was Jericho Swain who promoted me into High Command to work for one of his loyalists, Captain Shurk.” Vladimir shifted his weight from one foot to the other but otherwise remained motionless. “I worked for him for a few years… nothing too big, just minor jobs that he felt inclined to brush off on someone.” He was about to go on but Katarina interrupted him, “What were your tasks as Shurk’s office?”  
He licked his dry lips again, “I was tasked with overseeing some skirmishes in Demacian territory and all things associated; reading the reports and replying to them, and giving Shurk’s orders to his men on the frontline.” He made a significant pause, “It also included the disposal of bodies.” The Du Couteau’s eyes narrowed and she spoke the question, “And you mention especially that, because…?”

Balaq pressed his lips into a line, “There was an unusual request. I was ordered to confer with three other assistants about a corpse belonging to a high-ranking officer.” Katarina could feel the suspension, and yet it was so obvious, “Marcus Du Couteau.”  
Balaq nodded, “We didn’t know at the time, although the request was unexpected.” This time Vladimir spoke up, earning a glare from the redhead beside him, “You keep saying _request._ ” The Summoner nodded again, “It was a casual order from Shurk. He said another officer asked for his assistance and he agreed to dispatch me for it. In other words, it was a request from someone else.”

Katarina kept her attention on the man, making him squirm under her scrutiny. “We never found out who asked for his help because none of our superiors were directly involved in the matter in the first place. And that’s how I met the others…” he finished quietly.  
“You mean the Summoners who were conspiring with you yesterday. I want names.” Balaq winced at Katarina’s demand and her accusation of conspiracy. Although, she wasn’t technically wrong in that regard.

“Yes. They are Khela, Tethron, and Arc. All Lieutenants in the military before they were summoned into service at High Command.” He almost saw the deep furrows of frustration carved in Katarina’s face and understood her justified concern; none of those names were of notable personalities. He wasn’t surprised Katarina hadn’t heard about them at all.  
“The situation was to be handled carefully; we were supposed to make the corpse vanish as smoothly and untraceably as possible. Our superiors… implied it was a—“ he nearly hiccupped, “—a traitor to Noxus.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment and old memories resurfaced, igniting the same anger in him they did back in that trialing time. “When I think back on it, it was so obvious what we were doing — _who_ we were disposing of.”

Katarina sensed his infuriation and let him continue his thoughts, “There were rumors the General had disappeared a short time before. Most dismissed them as false claims, while a few quiet voices were certain there was something more going on.” He let his head hang, and Katarina wondered how much of his frustration was earnest and how much was just acted.  
“We should have listened… We should have opened our eyes and posed questions, if only to ourselves. We shouldn’t have followed High Command so blindly!” He spat the last sentence as he wrung his hands behind his back. Vladimir was silent.

The Crimson Reaper stared intently at the back of Katarina’s head. The only indicator of her emotions was a firm grip on the knife from the ominous briefcase. He guessed she must be positively furious; this all happened right under her nose and she had had no idea.

Katarina bared her teeth when she made her decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] I’m bad at this.
> 
> The introduction of OCs is always a big obstacle for me, because so much can go wrong with it. So please, please, please let me know if you guys are okay with it!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Writing has been quite an endeavor for me these past few months... But I do believe it gets better, considering I've been able to sit down and concentrate enough energy on it to get the next TWoN chapter out.
> 
> I hope it's somewhat decent. Personally, I'm happy to be able to write some action again. The conspiracy and "stealthy" bits are interesting and important to the story overall, but I bet it's tedious for you and me both to trudge through.
> 
> Anyways, have fun reading! TWoN is going to pick up some steam again! =)

Katarina stormed through the hallways of the Institute of War, and brooded. A few people had tried to converse with her, but if not the dark aura alone emanating from the assassin's very person, then the unmistakable growl they received signaled for them to keep their distance.

Ezreal was just passing her and threw an almost pained glance over his shoulder. He imagined steam coming out of her ears, like a locomotive, and he murmured, " _Noxians…_ I hate those guys."

Katarina was just about to round another random corner when suddenly someone grabbed her. Adrenaline exploding in her veins, the redhead whirled around and jabbed a knife to her assailant's head — only to find her attack being stopped in mid-air.  
A hand was firmly wrapped around her fist, the blade of her weapon only a precious few centimeters short of poking a hole into the man's larynx. Her eyes widened and then she snorted loudly and entirely too inelegantly for her sister's liking when she recognized him.

"Where is my briefcase?"

The Du Couteau tugged on her arm in a silent command for release and Talon obediently let go. She promptly sheathed the knife in a concealed pocket of her jacket. Talon's eyes were angrily twinkling beneath his dark hood, "You could have killed someone. The Institute does not approve of corpses in the hallways."

She bristled, "And how do you know _that?_ It's your own fault for creeping up on me like that." She seized him up with a haughty glance, "Maybe a severed hand would help you learn your lesson." Talon narrowed his eyes in displeasure. He brought a hand to his neck and rubbed, "You went for the throat." Katarina just shrugged, not gracing him with another look.

"I want my briefcase, Katarina. Heaven knows, you probably left my utensils in terrible condition after you borrowed them on such short notice." His sister rolled her eyes and frowned — a clear sign that the night hadn't been as satisfactory as it could have been — and started walking again, "Believe it or not, I didn't even get to use a _breadknife_ tonight…"  
Together, the two silently walked to Katarina's room and disappeared inside. Talon crossed his arms expectantly, his eyes following every one of Katarina's movements as she went to retrieve his precious briefcase from her bedroom.

She came back only a moment later and flung it at him. Talon, bless his good reflexes, caught it effortlessly.

"There you have it. And don't worry, I didn't _blemish_ any of your toys with my filth," she snarled sarcastically. The Blade's Shadow didn't trust his sibling of course, and sat down. The two entered a brief starting contest, which Talon naturally won. Katarina had always been the impatient one; she would always lose those battles of attrition between the three children of the Du Couteau household.

The Sinister Blade, for all her sinister-ness, pouted up a storm and waited for Talon to open the briefcase and examine its contents. He took his time; obviously relishing Katarina's fidgeting, and closed the cover with a nod.  
Before he stood however, he fixed the redhead with a stare, "Something's off." _What now?_ Katarina voiced her rather eloquent thought out loud and Talon just inquired further, "Something is off. Not about this though," he tapped his briefcase, "but about _you._ Did something happen?"

_He couldn't have possibly followed me to the dungeons? What if he talked to Renekton and the big lug said something? Ugh, I knew I should have handled this differently._

Talon took her silence for confirmation, "You seemed off in the hallway as well. I actually called your name and you didn't react. When I took you by the arm, you drew a knife on me." He crossed his arms before his chest, "There is a new smell in your room."  
Katarina's eyes darted to find his slowly going around the living room, as if he was trying to see the presence that had left this foreign scent. The redhead swallowed thickly, vividly remembering how Riven had waited here for her the other day before they went to lunch.

Could Talon really make out her scent? And if so, _What does she smell like?_ a tiny voice in Katarina's mind wondered and she ogled the couch on which Talon was seated. She made sure to look him straight in the eye when he turned his attention back on her.  
"You're acting strange, Katarina. Maybe you should go see Soraka," he concluded and finally stood. The Du Couteau didn't give him an answer and instead showed him out without much of a fuss. When he was gone, she cautiously stepped to the loveseat.

Her eyes were glued to the cushions, hand not sure if it should hover or clench a fist or do whatever. Her thoughts were pulling in at least three different directions; and it seemed despite being in the middle of it all, she couldn't paint the whole picture — at least not yet.

With a frustrated grunt, Katarina spun on the spot and fell backwards onto the couch. Her hair and her arms flew out haphazardly on the pillows and she closed her eyes for a minute.

After the interrogation with the Noxian senior Summoner, Balaq, she'd been in no mind to talk to Vladimir and go over the information they had gathered. Too much was going on in her head, too many things that she needed to sort out before she engaged in conversation with anyone, lest she blurt out some sensible information and start a war or something.

She almost guffawed at the sheer irony of that last thought. Vladimir had been cursing like a sailor when they exited Balaq's cell. It even got a curious hum from Renekton, though as soon as he made his presence felt, the two had ceased their flustered jabber.

She had curtly excused herself and intended to walk her agitation off while Vladimir had told her to find him once she was ready to talk about the situation. He had tried to stay focused and composed, but Katarina could see the look in his eyes.  
There was something ahead of them, no doubt. And — she took a deep breath through her nose — Jericho Swain was involved in the murder and disappearance of her father, former Noxian General Marcus Du Couteau.

"Well, fuck," she exclaimed and wiped a hand across her face. They had to be careful, howsoever they decided to go on, especially with Swain already plotting something new. And it wasn't only him; Darius was on his side, as well as Singed and Dr. Mundo. LeBlanc was another matter, since she played only by her own rules, but if Swain had her sympathy as well, then they were very likely already shadowed by her agents.  
In an attempt to stifle her anger, the Sinister Blade grabbed a pillow and pressed it to her face, growling like Nidalee did when she was prowling the Rift. While the act of muffling her screams was ineffective in calming her down, the earthy scent clinging to the cheap piece of cushion instantly hexed a smile to her face.

_It seems Talon was right…_ she mused, _it_ _ **does**_ _smell like her._

Katarina indulged herself and her toes curled in pleasure in her boots, goosebumps crawled up her arms and neck. True, their evening hadn't gone too smoothly, but the fact that Riven showed enough trust to actually follow the assassin into her own chambers was quite telling. At least, Katarina hoped it was a sign of trust.

 

* * *

 

Midday found Vladimir sitting in his living room, contemplating. He held a crystalline wineglass in his hand and lazily sloshed the red liquid inside around. Periodically, his pale eyes went up to the clock on the wall, checking the time.  
It didn't take long for a knock to appear on his door. He glared at the piece of wood, sudden heat rising along his neck, and he carefully deposited the glass on the table in front of him before he got up and went over to the door.

He steeled himself, then opened up.

Looking back at him was a pair of glowing yellow eyes. His heart skipped dangerously and his arms automatically opened up when Cassiopeia fell into him. She hissed his name, her scales cold and raw against his fingertips.  
"Cassiopeia! What in the world—" entangled, they stumbled into the room and despite his utter confusion Vladimir had enough sense about him to kick the door closed. He supported the Serpent's Embrace and brought her over to his couch where he lowered her gently into the cushions.

Cassiopeia curled in on herself, arms shaking, and he watched her closely. Her eyes were shine-through, lips a deep purple, and she was sucking in breath as if her lungs had collapsed. He sat down next to her and offered his hands when she grabbed at them for support, "Good lord, Cassiopeia! What happened to you?"

Her teeth clattered when she answered, "I don't know… But someone was in my room last night." She clawed at Vladimir's palms, not even realizing that she did so, "Foreign fragrance in my chambers… They erased all other traces."  
Vladimir listened carefully to her strained voice, his thoughts running a mile a minute already. Who was in her room? What did they do to her? And why target Cassiopeia? Was it specifically her or were others involved as well? _Why_ _ **now?**_

He cursed Katarina for dragging him along on her nightly escapade — which had left him so dead-tired that he had foregone checking the updates from his agents in Noxus since he eventually woke. A pained cough ripped him from his thoughts.

Cassiopeia clung to his collar, "Vlad… Please…" Devoid of words, he nodded frantically and helped her sit up before rushing to get her a glass of water. While he fumbled with the task, his mind was occupied, _Ok! Ok ok ok! Get her a glass of water, then think about what to do._

When he returned, he had to help Cassiopeia take a sip. Her hands were shaking too much. He put the glass aside, next to his wine, "Cass, we need to get you to the medical wing. Soraka can help, we just have to—" He was stunned to silence when her hand shot once again to his collar, "No! What if my assailant thinks I'm dead and then… then I show up alive in the infirmary? Can't be so reckless…"

_She's right. I didn't think of that… Damn, but what else?_ _**I'm** _ _not a healer; I_ _**kill** _ _people and have fun doing it. What would Kat do with her now?_

As if she read his thoughts, Cassiopeia's voice became panicked, "Don't tell Katarina, Vlad! Anything but that!" He had to admit that his second instinct was indeed to alert Katarina of Cassiopeia's status, but he could imagine how badly the redhead would react to such news.  
"Alright. But you can't stay here, we have to get you somewhere else." He freed himself from her grip and made for the door, "Please try not to die while I'm gone. I'll get help."

He didn't wait for another word from the weakened woman on his couch and instead stepped out into the hallway and down the corridor without hesitation. His head pounded with each step he took; the worry for Cassiopeia and the fear of what would happen if he didn't get help soon. But, most of all, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the prospect of following through with the crazy idea that had just come over him.

With swift steps he arrived at the lacquered door just at the end of the hallway. His robes swayed upon his person from the force with which he so suddenly stopped. He raised his hand, aiming to knock on the door and his breath caught right there in his throat when it opened by itself, just a split. No word, no motion, not even the creak of the handle reached his ears. Blind terror closed around his chest, but he screwed his eyes shut and stepped into the room. _Goddess preserve me._

The interior was dark. It struck him that, while the air was not cold per se, Vladimir felt chilled to the bone. Cold dread rose in his veins and he suppressed the urge to swallow when he rounded a corner that led to the living room.  
A magical lamp at the opposite wall cast ominous shadows along the floorboards. A handful of magical orbs of varying sizes floated leisurely around the brass lamp, barely illuminating the room and painting everything in dark light.

His eyes scanned the seating arrangements in front of him in anticipation, but apparently he was utterly alone. _I don't know if I should feel relieved or terrified._ Vladimir was just about to up and run out of here when a silky voice called out to him.

"My, my… What have we here?"

He whipped around, as if struck by lightning, and his headache surged through his skull full force. Vladimir went still as a statue when his eyes fell upon the milky thigh that coyly peeked out from beneath dark velvet. His gaze traveled up along the flattering corsage, tracing an inviting bosom and delicate neck until it reached ruby-red lips set in a knowing smirk.

As always, he felt intimidated. And as always, LeBlanc looked absolutely stunning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] I'm already writing the next chapter and will (hopefully) be able to afford enough time to get it done and published before work gets to be too hectic again.
> 
> Stay tuned! :-)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] The plot thickens! :D You are also treated to a change of perspective and a bit more world-building on my part; this time around featuring magic rather than geography.
> 
> Additionally (and if you're interested), I have a tumblr account. I'd be happy to talk with you and gush about random things! You can find me under the URL "tinyrogue".
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter!

His mouth was dry and he knew that only an incoherent stutter would come out if he tried to talk. LeBlanc however, saved him the trouble.

She sauntered over leisurely, hips swaying, and obviously enjoyed his perplexed reaction. Oh, how she loved catching people off-guard. She passed him by and took a seat in a broad armchair, satisfied when she saw how her perfume seemed to revive his ghost.

Vladimir turned but didn't sit. He waited, feeling sweat pooling at the base of his neck, and prayed to any deity that would care to listen that LeBlanc would not—

"Had you given me notice of our clandestine meeting, I would have prepared tea for two," she interrupted his train of thought and stirred a spoon through her cup. Again, Vladimir must have missed the tea's appearance in the first place. He licked his lips mostly unnoticed and tried to determine on how to address the subject.  
"I'm sorry to disturb you unannounced. But, there is something I might need your help with." LeBlanc glanced at him, smile still playing on her lips, and he was relieved when she turned her attention back on her tea, "That much I figured." She took a sip, "What can I do for you, Vladimir?"

_Right, you idiot. Don't give her a reason to remove your head from your shoulders!_ Vladimir scolded himself before clearing his throat, "Someone is targeting a… mutual acquaintance. I still have use for them so I need to relocate them to a place where no one will suspect them. _Best_ if the world thinks they're already dead."

The Deceiver hummed in understanding, a sleek eyebrow raised, "And you came here to ask for my assistance." Vladimir nodded, "Yes. I… am afraid this exceeds my own magical expertise." It took him some effort to swallow his pride and admit that his knowledge in that field of magic was indeed inferior to LeBlanc's — usually the Crimson Reaper carried himself with arrogance.  
"I take it this needs to be done quickly and quietly," the woman inquired and Vladimir didn't need to confirm the obvious. LeBlanc looked at him and he felt like he was being measured — by what standards, he could only guess. He feared he might be found inadequate.

It were a tense few moments and the only thing keeping Vladimir firmly in place instead of running away in sheer terror was the gruesome thought of the slowly dying Cassiopeia in his chambers. He knew they were all in their own compromising situations, but if he learned anything from living in Noxus, it was to keep your friends close and your enemies guessing.

It was just never quite clear if the woman sitting before him without a care in the world was former or latter.

"Very well. I'm curious to see where this will lead," she eventually said. LeBlanc motioned in the general direction of the small dresser across the room. "Top drawer, the one on the very right." Vladimir moved on autopilot and pulled out the drawer. Before him, an exquisite collection of various charms rested on top of black velvet.  
His eyes widened but he halted before actually touching any of them. A single drop of sweat vanished into the line of his collar; magical charms were a fickle thing. While some of them could cast protective auras around their bearer, others were a death knell when you so much as touched them.

He didn't know what to make of this discovery. The fact that LeBlanc was in possession of such an admittedly impressive multitude of charms wasn't even what surprised him the most; it was the fact that she had apparently managed to get them past the Institute's security protocols. Either she smuggled them here, _Or she is in cohorts with someone influential and they turned a blind eye._

LeBlanc's eyes were still fixed on his back and he heard her sip on her tea when as she spoke, slow and grave, "Help yourself, Vladimir. But be cautious. Anything you take, comes at a price." He wavered and watched his fingers trembling even though he couldn't do anything against it. He was grateful he still had his back turned to the other mage.  
There was a tingling sensation that overcame him at that exact moment and for a second he feared LeBlanc might have gotten up. He swore he could feel her hand on his shoulder and her breath on his neck, but when he straightened the feeling was gone. The quiet sip of tea he heard signaled for him that she was still seated in her armchair. He figured it must have been his imagination playing tricks on him in his current state of mind.

_I don't have a choice, Cassiopeia needs me right now. I can't let her die; whatever happens, I have to keep her alive. Kat's going to kill me if I don't. Also,_ he managed a swallow that went unnoticed, _LeBlanc is scaring the living daylights out of me! I just want to get this over with and get out of here!_

Without asking her for the price — for _her_ price? —, the Crimson Reaper reached out and took the charm that LeBlanc said would help him. He had held his breath, fully expecting some kind of magic to be set free when he touched it, but nothing of the sort happened.  
He turned, the golden charm dangling from a delicate chain in his hand, and dared find LeBlanc's eyes. She smiled still. _I wonder if she's pleased that she has me now. Goddess, this is the worst idea I've ever had._ He silently wondered if maybe he should have just dragged Cassiopeia somewhere else by the tip of her tail — on full display for anyone who might care to look.

The mirth of the mental image was lost on him. The two mages remained in silence for a few seconds until Vladimir spoke up again, "How do I use it? How will it help?" LeBlanc politely set her cup of tea aside. Then she snapped her fingers and Vladimir jumped when the drawer behind him closed itself. He exhaled.  
"Put it around whoever you wish to hide. No one will see them. That way, you should be able to _relocate our acquaintance._ " There was something akin to a knowing glint shining in her eyes but as usual, she didn't speak her mind.

Vladimir just choked out an affirmative and a thank-you before LeBlanc actually shooed him away. She didn't bother showing him out and Vladimir didn't turn around again. He rushed back to his own chambers, mentally chanting _I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive!_ as the tension fled from his shaken body.

When he returned to Cassiopeia, he found her lying on the couch in such a sorry state that he almost did a double-take. Her skin was even paler than normally and her lips had started to turn black. Her eyes were still unfocused. "Vladimir?" she croaked.  
"I'm here, I've got something that'll help." She made an effort to look at whatever he brought when he knelt by her side and managed to pull up an eyebrow, "You bought me jewelry? Have you… gone mad?" Her voice didn't sound nearly as threatening as he knew it would have had she been her usual self.

"It's not that. We can get you some place safe with this. Come on," he urged and slung one of her arms around his neck. Then, he placed the charm around both of their necks — and the magic did its work. The air around them thickened, like a woolen blanket that made your breathing heavier, and the air flickered like it was lit aflame.

Cassiopeia slightly gasped when she realized just what he had utilized and she clawed at the fine golden chain, "A charm! You got your filthy hands on an invisibility charm!" _Hoo boy, you have no idea how worried I was that it was something else entirely… But yes, I've got my hands on an invisibility charm._  
He pulled her up with as much of his meager upper body strength as he could muster and together, they stumbled out of the door.

Fortunately, there was no one around in this part of the Noxian wing. They made their way over to one of the secondary staircases and stopped. "I believe the best place for you to be right now would be the dungeons. Nobody will suspect you there and only a handful of people go down there at all. Plus, the magic barriers will cover up any magical traces the charm might leave behind."  
If Cassiopeia tried to protest, it was so weak he never even registered it. The way to the dungeons wasn't very long per se, but they had to pass a few of the main hallways. Luckily, they both weren't idiots and knew how invisibility charms worked.

So, with a bit of shuffling to stay out of anyone's path and not get in physical contact with them, they traversed the corridors of the Institute of War. They tried desperately to keep any grunts of exertion down to a level where nobody would notice; as that would also break the spell the charm had cast around them.  
They snuck past Akali and Kennen, wormed their way through a group of Summoners who decided to hold a tea party in the middle of the corridor, and avoided nearly tripping over one of Ahri's prized tails when she came in their direction. Maokai proved to be a bit more of a challenge, since the massive Champion was broad enough that even the hallway seemed too tight for more than three people.

Vladimir ground his teeth together and tried not to lose his temper now. Cassiopeia had long since gone limb in his grasp and when the Crimson Reaper looked up—

—he stared straight into the glassy, blind eye of none other than Singed the Mad Chemist. He skidded to a halt and it fell likes scales from his eyes. Cassiopeia attacked and sick, the meeting with Swain a few days ago, the revelations about Marcus Du Couteau's disappearance…  
And now Singed was back at the Institute, going on his merry way like nothing was wrong. The pieces started to fit together but Vladimir didn't feel the euphoria that usually came with a puzzle successfully figured out, however insignificant it turned out to be.

_Sweet lord of blood… I had hoped this wasn't the case. I had hoped this Balaq person was just a driveling idiot._ He sighed, not caring if he was being heard or not.

He didn't answer Cassiopeia when she asked what was wrong — her eyes more white now than yellow — but the tension in the air was nearly palpable. A quick glance told him that nobody had noticed his frustrated noise and he half-shouldered Cassiopeia onto his back before urging along.

_I need to get her out of sight._

 

* * *

 

It didn't take much longer for the two to reach the staircase to the dungeons and they began their descent. The lower they came, the colder the air felt; like a stale prickle on the skin. Vladimir cautiously opened the massive door leading to the corridor where Katarina had also left Balaq and was relieved to find it empty.

Cassiopeia grunted in her misery, a most unladylike sound, and dragged her lower body after them. As soon as the door fell closed behind them, Vladimir took the charm off of them and stuffed it in the pocket of his mantle.  
A sigh escaped both Noxians, the thick magic around them lifted. "Thank goodness that's over…" Cassiopeia drawled. They passed Renekton's cell and when Vladimir looked over, the Butcher of the Sands was staring at them with glowing red eyes.

A shiver ran up his spine, but the hemomancer refused to be intimidated, "If you so much as breathe a word to anyone about this, I swear on the grave of my mentor that I will end your life before you take even one step out of this rotten cell."  
But Renekton's fiery gaze was firmly fixed on Cassiopeia's limb form. There was the sound of heavy, rusted iron rattling when he smashed his hand against the cage, "What the hell happened?"

_He is_ _ **such**_ _a brute… No wonder they locked him up here._ But Cassiopeia beat him to the punch when she replied with feverish voice, "Don't you have eyes in your head, Renekton?" She managed a smirk that had her sharp fangs glinting, "I'm obviously sick… of my lavish chambers."

The comment sent all three of them into silence — until the reptilian Champion growled out ironically, "Couldn't imagine why." Then he turned and curled in on himself, though his eyes never strayed from Cassiopeia's, "You're in much better company down here than up there anyways."

It felt odd to hear him say that and Vladimir actually neither want nor cared to mull over it. He helped Cassiopeia into one of the cells on the far end of the hallway; next to where Balaq was still chained. He briefly wondered if Katarina had made sure to feed him, lest he died in his own mud.

The cell was dirty and devoid of furniture and it stank worse than horse dung. But, it was the only place Vladimir could think of to leave Cassiopeia while he searched for some kind of antidote. All he had to do now was make sure that nobody would find her here.

He felt awful leaving her on the ground like that, but the Crimson Reaper straightened and left the cell. He took a few swift steps, fully intend on making his way to Soraka, when a slim shadow fell over him. Alarmed, Vladimir sprang into a fighting stance, magic already swirling in the palms of his hands, and came face to face with the Sinister Blade of Noxus.

The breath was once more knocked from his lungs as they stared intently at one another. Katarina narrowed her eyes at him, "What the hell are you doing, Vlad?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N:] Wow… You have no idea who much it hurts me to have Cass suffer like this :'(
> 
> I'm still figuring out how exactly I want to portrait Vladimir's inner dialogue. I'm not 100% happy with the result as of now, but I'm not opposed to try and refine it. So you might see more of Vlad-centric content in the future.


End file.
